Path of the Exile
by A.R. Minion
Summary: Though Malachor V and the Sith have finally been laid to rest, and dark future awaits over the horizon for the Exile and his friends. But before they are able to face it, they must first face the past.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

In the depths of cold and timeless space, where dwelled neither sound nor life, an echo could be heard clearly by those who were able to hear it. The echo of a planet crying it's last horrid cries as it finally found silence after so many years of screaming its pain across the galaxy. After ten years of sharing its nightmare, its tragedies, and its hatred, the graveyard of suffering that was Malachor finally found its slumber at the hands of the Mass Shadow Generator, taking with it the dark teachings of the ancient and true Sith that have for so long tainted its very core with an all consuming hunger. A hunger that it had passed on to every being who ever walked its surface, birthing its mutated children to spread the void that consumed or corrupted all it touched. All but one.

And now, as those utter cries of Malachor finally fall silent, leaving nothing but an echo in their place, the few that witnessed its final moments now flew among the stars, each searching within themselves to find some measure of comfort before having to face the future everyone of them knew was coming.

Atton sat silently in the cockpit seat, running random diagnostics upon the ship's computer. He never liked for his mind to sit still, even for a moment. For within that moment, if he did not keep his thoughts and feelings occupied, he knew he would leave himself vulnerable. Yet it was not an invasion from an outward intruder that the young pilot feared at the moment, but having to face the fearful thoughts that now dwelled among the shadows of his mind.

He wanted to be apart from his thoughts at that moment, to not have to think about what he knew was about to come. What they all knew.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know."

Atton looked to his right to find the bounty hunter suddenly sitting within the other seat. Mira didn't look at him as she had spoken; she only stared out the front display, her hands resting comfortably behind her head.

Atton simply tossed her a curious expression. "What are you jabbering about?"

"You think that sitting up here and messing with your little ship hides what you're thinking?" Mira replied as she stretched out her arms a bit. "I don't have to use the Force to see through that one, Atton."

"Is that so?" Atton suddenly changed his expression to a suggestive smile and a crooked eyelash. "And can you guess what I'm thinking right now?"

Returning just as playful a smile, the bounty hunter crossed her legs in a seductive motion. "Oh… I think I have a good idea."

She then proceeded to level off her right arm at Atton's head, her wrist launcher at the ready. "You're wondering what a frag grenade tastes like at 250 PRs."

As if just having recollected who it was that he had been talking to, the lustful interest melted away from Atton's face and mind, replaced by seriousness as he sniffed in defiance. "I'm not much for trying new things, thank you. But if you were to taste it first and then tell me about it, I might be persuaded."

The red-mane huntress lowered her weapon and returned to staring out the portal at the far off stars. "So where are we heading now, space cowboy?"

"Right now, we're just on the quickest route back to Republic space. Staying out here on the Outer Rim isn't the smartest thing to do when your flying in a busted tin can," Atton responded as he continued to run diagnostics, finding more than a few problems that would require their attention whenever they made port. "That little trip to Malachor nearly made this piece of junk…well, a piece of junk."

"Set a course for Dxun."

Atton nearly jumped from his seat as he turned to find Mandalore standing sternly behind him, rifle in hand as always.

"Damnit mandalorian, don't sneak up on me like that!" Atton remarked as he regained what composure he had lost.

"If you did a little more listening and a lot less jabbering, kid, then you wouldn't have had this problem."

"Yeah well… not everyone likes having to always eye for a blaster poking from behind," he young pilot muttered under his breath. "So why Dxun anyways?"

"We need supplies and repairs for the ship. My clan is also expecting my return, otherwise they might do something stupid like deciding to replace me."

"Yeah right… cause heaven knows that your little group of blaster packers can't survive without their precious leader," Atton mumbled quietly to himself.

Mandalore's helmet turned sharply towards the young pilot. "What was that?"

"Nothing, just figuring the hyperspace route outloud. It'll take at least half a cycle to make it to Dxun."

"Fine." With that last term of acceptance, Mandalore turned hard on his heel and started back to the main hull, the quiet sound of his armor rustling could be heard with every step.

"Guy gives me the creeps," Atton complained as he punched in the coordinates. "Always acting so superior and labeling everyone else as beneath his 'mighty clan.' Probably wears that helmet all the time to hide the huge blaster hole in his head…"

"He at least has the stomach to always be honest with himself," Mira shot back.

Atton sniffed defiantly again. "Well, you'll forgive me if I don't give a cantina rat about being seen on the same level as a Mandalorian."

Mira continued staring out the side portal, either not hearing Atton's response or not caring enough to give one of her own.

Something about that just seemed to aggravate the pilot even more, as if simply being around the leather-wrapped bounty hunter assaulted his senses in a way that he did not like. He knew that something about her reminded him of himself, though he didn't like to think on it more than that as he figured that drawing any conclusion from such thinking would only make him think more about her or less about himself, both being things he did not really desire.

Almost unconsciously did his mind start counting Pazaak card values, generating numbers at random and figuring about what values he would need to make twenty and the chance of turning up those values.

"Kai Lugo(1) ." The name suddenly rang heavy through Atton's thoughts as Mira suddenly pronounced it. The pilot looked over to the red-mane woman, a bit caught off guard by her sudden and unpredicted desire to continue speaking. Her choice of topic in such desire was also not something Atton readily desired to talk about either, but he didn't refuse her wishes.

"The Exile? What about him?" the pilot finally responded.

"Don't give me that…" Mira spat back, as if simply saying the name was enough to deduce what she was hinting at. "You knew the name before you ever met him, just as I had, though I doubt because of the same reasons."

"You know what! The Jedi Order must be made up of a lot of women," Atton suddenly shot back. "Because I swear, you all talk the same way! Always misdirection and mystic like you've got spice pumping through your brains! What the hell are you trying to prove? That you're smarter than everyone else or that you can be a big pain in everyone's cargo hold."

Mira then turned to look at Atton, though her face did not carry any display of defensive anger. Rather, she gave off an amused smile. "Damn, Atton, you sure do know how to fly off the space port. Someone makes a simple remark and you're blaster blazing."

"Well, I get tired of people always trying to be evasive."

"That's not something I would expect to hear from someone who makes a habit of lying to everyone, including himself."

Atton simply snorted in defiance. "Yeah… I knew 'of' him. Hell, everyone did. The Jedi General who led the covert assault squads on Dxun with the retaking of Onderon, causing the wound that shook the Mandalorian war effort all the way till the end."

"I first got wind of him after he led the evacuation efforts on Serraco, while managing to fight off the basilisk war-droid bombardment. The guy somehow managed to turn what was supposed to be a complete mandalorian victory into an almost stalemate."

Atton eyed the huntress then, a feeling of curiosity building within his mind as he gazed upon her. Mira's eyes looked far away, beyond the sight of the stars before them. It was as if she was deep in remembrance, as if what they were speaking of had a personal interest to her.

"Never saw Serraco myself," the pilot threw out as he continued with the ship diagnostics, not really sure if there had been anything more appropriate to say.

Mira unexpectedly turned her eyes upon him, accompanied by a mocking grin. "No, you wouldn't have been at Serraco. If I remember correctly, Revan's fleet was in orbit above Taris at that time, fighting off the mandalorian possession and slave trafficking."

Atton's hands paused over the control panels for a moment, an indifferent look passing over his face, which revealed what emotion was passing through his private thoughts more than had he given a more casual expression. He did not look up at the huntress, nor did he eyes waver in the least, as if he was trying hard to concentrate on the task before him to avoid focusing on anything else.

Yet Mira did not require his direct attention for her to realize that she had been correct in her assumption about the well-trained pilot. His attempt at apathy failed to hide what the red-mane woman now knew beyond any doubt.

"I told you I would find out," the huntress teased with a soft whisper.

"What are you yapping about now?" Atton still refused to look her in the eye, as if doing so would be the same as admitting all she already knew.

Taking her hands from behind her head and placing the on the armrests of the cockpit seat, Mira dropped the side of her head into the palm of her left hand. "Oh, nothing I suppose. No, nothing important."

It disappointed her on some level to have finally found out the truth behind the elusive pilot. It had been a tactical game of cat and mouse, trying to coax him into saying more and more until she had enough to get the whole picture. It had been that game that had fascinated her so much, the challenge of careful timing and proper influencing to put the pieces together. And yet, when she had finally clicked the last one into place, she found that she was unimpressed by the results.

That was what she believed anyway, and that was all she cared enough to look at in the matter before turning her eyes elsewhere. Atton knew however that if she thought upon what she had discovered more, she would have realized that there was another whole part of the puzzle that was the pilot that she had yet to realize existed. Atton didn't want her to know though. It wasn't that he particularly cared what she would think of him if she did discover the whole truth, but it had been hard enough telling it to the Exile.

And anyways, current events were more interesting to him right then than his past.

"So where is he anyways?"

"He's still with her in the medical bay, last I checked."

Atton raised a curious eyebrow, though his hands continued to act. "Doing what?"

"Nothing really. He just sits there next to her."

"Figures," the pilot murmured more to himself than to Mira. "Probably should've left her in the center of that planet with the rest of them."

Though he hadn't intended it, Atton's words had a more severe affect on Mira than he could have known. They had inadvertently brought forth thoughts of her own family lost within the gravity mass of the horrid void. The memories of losing those that she had held dearly and who had held her dearly came back to her, and so did the pain it had left within her heart. An echo that radiated within it still, though what training she had now with the Force had helped calm its presence. Yet still, it hurt.

"I think enough bodies have been left there already." Her words were flat. Flat as any Atton had ever heard her say, catching his attention in a way that Mira never had before.

Yet he still did not look at her, nor did she look at him.

Only the most passive of sounds could be heard throughout the Ebon Hawk as its occupants each took to their own preoccupations. The rumble of the hyperdrive. The rotors of the T3 unit as it traveled around the ship, running its own tests and making small adjustments every so often. The Handmaiden kept her presence within the confines of the cold and empty cargo hold, her hands and feet cutting the air as she trained diligently, though not for the purpose of battle preparation.

And within the small cramped confines of the medical bay, a man, who was dead in every way a Jedi of a Sith would call someone dead, sat silently with only his deep thoughts accompanying him. Upon the medical bed now laid the body of someone he had been bonded to beyond all desire or will. She had been a teacher for him, and perhaps something more. She had saved him from the trappings of his past by forcing him into corners where his only choice had been to face them, as she had with Atton, though she had thought the pilot a fool for never realizing it. She had helped him. She had saved him at the cost of her hand. She had guided him. She had made him a stronger human being than he had ever been before. And he had killed her for it.

He was a Jedi Guardian and a former General. He had become a Weapon Master by his teacher's guidance and with the knowledge that there was always one more battle waiting for him that he would have to face. He had always been a leader; the one coaxing others to fight for the cause that he called just. But now, he didn't know what he was.

His eyes stared blankly at the cloth that lay over the woman's abdomen where one of the viridian beams of his double-bladed lightsaber had struck the fatal blow. What pain it must have caused her as the weapon burned through her flesh. And yet, in the end, she smiled because of it. She had been happy that it ended as it had. But for Kai Lugo, for the Exile, who had bonded so strongly with the old woman, her death had ripped into him just as painfully as all of Malachor V.

He sat there next to her, motionless beyond the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed heavily. His left arm fell across his lap, his right hand clutching at the back of his bicep where one of the three floating lightsabers Kreia had attack him with almost dismembered it. He smiled for a moment to himself as he thought of the irony of that wound. If it hadn't been for a near fatal incident many years past, an incident he had kept secret from everybody on the ship including Kreia, that lightsaber would have been the end of him. It made him recall one of the last things Kreia had said to him; about how it is all that is left unsaid in which tragedies are created. Apparently having left this one thing unsaid is what saved his life, though he was hardly grateful for that now.

The Exile hung his head low as the weight of all that has happened and all that he knew was going to happen fell upon his heavy shoulders. The long strands of his raven hair fell over his face and he pulled his right hand away from his arm only long enough to push them back behind his ears. It had been a long time since he had his hair cut short as he used to have it when he was young padawan and during the war. Yet after he was exiled, he just became contented with tying it back. The wrapping he had used to keep it tied had fallen off at some point during the whole incident on Malachor, allowing it to fly freely much to his annoyance.

"General," a low toned voice suddenly cut into his thoughts. Kai raised his head to find the iridonian standing at the doorway, a stone hard look on his face. "Are you okay, sir?"

Kai gave the technician an appreciative smile. "I'm fine Bao-Dur. Just thinking a little too much."

"You don't look fine." The iridonian made a point by looking directly at Kai's left arm. "You've been cradling it ever since you got back from the core. You should have the Handmaiden look at it. Leaving a wound like that alone for too long can have its consequences."

More jokingly than to make a point, Bao-Dur knocked the back of the metal hand of his energy arm against the side of the wall, making a distinct clanking noise. Both the iridonian and the Exile shared a small laugh.

Kai rose from his seat and started walking out of the medical bay. "I'm actually going to need you to look at my arm."

The technician cast the Exile a confused looked for a moment, not understanding what Kai desired of him. After all, he was a technician, not a medic. "What do you need me for, sir?"

"Where are your tools?"

"In the main hull, why?"

"You'll see in a second," Kai responded as he started down towards the room, Bao-Dur following close behind.

The pair walked into the room only to find it not to be as vacant as the Exile had desired. Mandalore had taken to the communication panel, likely sending a message to his clan on Dxun. Also HK-47 stood motionless within a corner of the room as well, his head lowered. The Exile casted the assassin droid a glance and quickly noticed that its photoreceptors were not on, indicating that the droid had taken to stasis mode.

Bao-Dur's tool tray sat upon the side of the center display, a few items scattered around it indicating that the iridonian had been busy working on a part of the display. He would likely need those tools in the next few minutes.

"General sir," the iridonian murmured as he came up behind Kai. "I still don't see what you think it is I can-"

"-Just wait a moment, Bao-Dur," the Exile interrupted. Without warning, Kai began to remove his grey robe, using only his right hand as his left hung freely by his side. He then hung it over the edge of one of the station chairs surrounding the central display.

"What are you doing, Jedi?" Mandalore had looked up from the console, unsure as Bao-Dur was as to what was going on.

"Just doing a little repair job, Mandalore. Nothing that requires the attention of the leader of the mandalorians," the Exile teased, to which Mandalore was more confused by than annoyed.

Sitting down within the seat that his robe now hung over, Kai then preceded to ripping off his right sleeve. Though both Mandalore and Bao-Dur were still unclear as to the intent, they both looked on patiently.

"Bao-Dur, I need you to deal with the wound."

The iridonian was dumbfounded by the request. "General, what is it that you're expecting me to-"

"-Bao-Dur," the Exile interrupted again, this time looking directly at the technician, his green eyes locking directly with the iridonian's. "Were you at Dxun during when it fell?"

The iridonian paused for a moment before he answered. His memories of the war often blended together. Battle upon battle with fields littered with bodies. It was easy to get lost in all of it, to lose sight of where one was or even who one was.

"No, I wasn't at Dxun," he finally said.

"What about you, Madalore," the Exile asked as he looked over to the fully armored warrior, who had silently listened to the conversation as he sat at the center console station.

"You shouldn't have to ask that, jedi. After all, if I had been there, Dxun wouldn't have fallen," the mandalorian answered. "I remember hearing of its defeat, however, and how completely overwhelmed our warriors had been by the unexpected ground assaults led through the dense jungles by the jedi."

Canderous' recollection touched on the Exile's, forcing old memories of that long past battle to re-emerge within his mind. The thick humidity and heat of those burning jungles were etched so clear within Kai's thoughts that he could have sworn at the time that the moon itself was fighting against them.

"At the time, the mandalorians stationed on the moon had prepped their fortresses to withstand and counter-attack against bombardment runs," Madalore continued. "They had expected to be invaded by Malak and his bomber fleets at the time since he was within the system when it fell."

"Most everyone else had expected Malak to be chosen to lead the assault too," Kai added. "But Revan had changed the plan at the last moment, much to his second-in-command's enragement. Instead he sent me and my assault squadrons into the Dxun jungles."

"Where you found the fleets of Basilisk war droids hidden and waiting to obliterate the aerial assault," Canderous finished for the Exile.

Kai smirked a little at the memory. "He had advised me to make sure my squads were armed with extra ion charges, saying that he was sure we would need them. I told him that I had already done such."

A heavy laugh erupted from Mandalore. "You jedi…"

The Exile shrugged his shoulders lightly with indifference on his face. "The mandalorians more than made up for that mistake. They had set unmarked mine fields out of several of the clearings between the basilisk caches and the main fortresses, using thermal explosives and plasma detonators."

"Mines…" Bao-Dur mumbled with a certain hatred for the word. He gazed over to the mandalorian then, a look of revulsion on his face, which was greeted only by the emotionless faceplate on Mandalore's helmet. "I thought your people lived for the honor of facing your enemies face to face, not randomly blowing off their legs like cowards and murderers."

"Combat has many forms, iridonian," Canderous responded flatly.

Though Kai understood Canderous' meaning, his personal memories of traversing those minefields had not felt like combat as he knew it in the least, but rather an attempt to avoid random massacres. By the time he had managed to get his own squad past that labyrinth only a fourth of his men were still alive, their morale surely broken had it not been for the Exile's unique abilities.

"If what I know of that battle is correct, you eventually made it through the jungle and stormed our fortresses," Mandalore spoke, his voice almost emanating a tone of respect as he address the Exile and what this man had accomplished. "The mandalorians there were forced to make a withdrawal."

"Don't you mean retreat," Bao-Dur asked, feeling that the mandalorian was intentionally avoiding any description that would demean his image of his people.

Though no one in the room could tell, one got a sense of anger radiating from Canderous' unseen eyes as he suddenly snapped his head toward the technician.

"Watch it, alien…"

The iridonian sniffed defiantly, but gave no response.

Kai quickly spoke up before the tension within the room escalated into something more than it already was. "Unfortunately those mandalorians who were able to escape the moon in the transport ships did not get very far. Revan had not inform me at the time that he had Malak's fleet standing by on the other side of Onderon, waiting for the mandalorians to make an attempt to leave the moon."

The Exile's eyes drifted downward as memories of what he felt more than of what he saw emerged within his thoughts. "Not one of those transport ships made it to hyperspace."

Kai recalled the pre-operation conference he had attended with the rest of the Republic commanders, including Revan and Malak. It had been estimated that over two hundred thousand mandalorians had been stationed on Dxun on the time. Of all those there, only a couple ten-thousand died in the ground conflict. Yet as painful as it had been to feel all that death around him at the time, the scream that wailed from beyond the sky had completely deafened him to the sensation of what happened on Dxun's surface.

"You should have been proud of yourself, jedi," Mandalore suddenly said, almost as if having heard the Exile's thoughts. "Dxun was one of the Republic's greatest victories in the war. In no other battle other than Malachor V were so many mandalorians annihilated in such great numbers by the hands of so few."

"Yes…" Kai muttered mostly to himself, his right hand grabbing at his left arm as it fell limp. "Malak so did love his responsibilities during the war. He was given control of a larger Republic squadron after that. They applauded his extreme efficiency in exterminating mandalorians."

Looking over at his own wounded arm, the Exile gave a small, sad laugh. "And that bastard Revan bereted me for trying to spare one."

_(1) Lugo means, "mourn" or "to mourn" in Latin._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

-Dxun, one week after Republic invasion…

He first noticed it the moment he stepped foot onto the moist grounds of the Dxun jungles. The air was almost unbearably thick with hot vapor. It found its way into every pore on his skin, causing him to sweat without control or end. Kai had done his best to try to forget about it when he had led the assault squadrons through the jungle. When they had laid waste to thousands upon thousands of unmanned basilisk war droids. When they had to keep a sharp eye on where they placed their feet as they sought to avoid the well-hidden mines placed throughout the jungle floor. And in the end, when their numbers stormed into the Mandalorian's stronghold, taking on only rifle barrages as they caught the armored warriors completely off guard and unprepared. And now, as Kai stood within one of the several formerly occupied hangar bays within the main fortress of the Mandalorians on Dxun, he tried his best to ignore it.

But he couldn't any longer. With the bodies of so many lying around him, Mandalorian, republican, and Jedi, he could no longer place the hot vapor out of his mind, as it now was filled with the iron-like smell of blood. The Jedi General almost wondered why the air did not look as red as it smelled, the stench of death becoming almost overwhelming.

The last of the Mandalorian personnel shuttles had escaped over an hour ago, leaving those few who did not make it in time to fight and die against the invading Republic army. Now in the fortress where once hundreds of thousands of Mandalorians had stood and executed the strategies of the war they brought upon the galaxy, there now stood tens of thousands of Republic soldiers and the few hundred Jedi that had fought beside them.

Anonymously, the Jedi General stood near the edge of the opened hangar bay shutters, over fifty stories above the ground, staring far off at the sky above. Though about ten or so other people occupied the massive chamber, Kai stood isolated from all of them, his mind and perception far off from where he stood. Something that he had heard not so long ago had stirred him to his core, yet he wasn't sure what it had been. He had felt similar sensations before, since his part in this bloody conflict began. Yet every one of them paled in comparison to what he now felt. The sensation vibrated through him still like ripples upon a thin sheet of water. It distorted the world around him, as he perceived it through the Force, making all that he saw appear faded or distorted. Yet what was causing this distortion, what its source was, he could not tell. But whatever it was, it was something that he now felt radiating through him.

"General Lugo, sir…."

Upon hearing his named called, Kai pulled himself away from his wandering thoughts and turned around to face the speaker. Before him stood young Torii Ulcisco , a padawan of the order who was at least five years younger than General Lugo, his face smidgen with sweat and a blackish streak where a blaster shot had barely missed its target, a war wound that would likely remain for several years to come. The youth's blond hair had been cut down to the scalp, like many others among the ranks had done before the operation began in order to provide the least bit of alleviation from the heat. Kai had chosen only to cut his raven-black hair short.

Dressed in traditional robes, the young padawan stood before Kai with his lightsaber still in hand, its beam doubtlessly having seen more than its share of use that long week, as had General Lugo's own.

"Lieutenant Torii, reporting back from sweeping operations, sir." Obviously his time among the Republic soldiers had left its impression on the boy. Kai found it somewhat humorous that the padawan spoke to him much the same way the soldiers did, in such a methodical manner. Jedi had little appreciation for such things beyond talking with respect to one's superiors. But his dislike for formalities was not the issue at hand at the moment.

"How fare the sweeping operations?"

"Completed successfully sir. A few Mandalorians were still present within the facilities of the base, but they have been dealt with."

"Did any of them surrender?"

An uncomfortable silence fell between the pair as the young padawan seemed caught off guard by what he was being asked. Kai looked back at his lieutenant with a passive expression. Was it such a strange question to ask?

Torii quickly found his voice again, though he spoke as if somewhat confused. "…No sir… Mandalorians do not surrender…"

"I see…" Kai sighed heavily with a depressed look on his face. He felt he should have expected as such, considering all the confrontations he had had with the warrior race up to this point. Still, he couldn't help but hope that at least one among their numbers, at least one of those who had been enslaved into the Mandalorian army, would have been willing to set aside their cause for the sake of their own lives.

Yet after every conflict Kai Lugo had been a part of, and every time he had asked that question, the results were always the same.

All Mandalorians were dead.

"What of our units still within the jungle?"

"Medical and retrieval droids had brought back a few survivors several days ago, sir, but the reports have been grim at best."

In that matter, Lugo had expected no better. The grim trek through that mine infested wilderness had truly been the grueling point in the entire campaign. The rumbling of hundreds of un-sequenced explosions still echoed within General Lugo's ears, as he was sure it did within those of all who survived that long and unforgiving march. How it had torn into every soldier and Jedi to walk pass the bodies of their fallen comrades, bodies that were barely recognizable after suffering explosions that scorched the flesh as much as combusted it.

And for those few who may have survived such horror, their relief would only come several hours later in the form of hovering machines, as medical personal could not risk suffering similar fates.

"And Onderon?"

"No report from Admiral Saul Karath as of yet, sir. His fleet began their assault on the Mandalorian possession of Izziz three days ago with the support of the Onderon militia, but they have not sent contact since."

General Lugo was not as much concerned with whether Onderon would be liberated as he was by what means he suspected Karath would use. The man's reputation for his employment of sheer force, a tactical trait he likely learned whilst under the command of Malak, had reached Kai's ears, instigating doubt as to whether there would be much of a city left for Onderon's militia to claim.

But it had all been part of Revan's plan and no one had questioned it. At least not vocally. Kai sincerely doubted any among the Republic cared for how many Onderon civilians must have died due to Karath's assault on the city. As the war had carried on, such concerns seemed to fade away more and more from the minds of everybody, from the petty soldier to their leaders, as if such a thing was trivial when weighted against how many Mandalorians will have died because of their actions.

It now felt to many as if Revan and Malak's call for action against the Mandalorian invasion had deafened even those among the Jedi to their own compassion and self-control. And General Lugo wondered that if he had chosen to fight in the war because of Revan, would he have become deaf to his own beliefs as well?

He knew it was somewhat hypocritical of himself to believe he had such value for life while he stood in a room where the bodies of at least fifteen Mandalorians lied scattered about, more than eight of them having met their end by his lightsaber beams alone. How could he carry the legitimacy of such values in hands covered in blood?

"Is this what it really takes to bring peace to the galaxy, Revan?"

"What did you say, sir," Torii asked, not sure he had heard the General correctly as the man seemed to mumble to himself on several occasions.

"…Nothing…" General Lugo answered as he turned back around to stare out the shuttle bay gate. "Call our fleet in orbit and have them send down the tech teams to investigate the computer systems for intelligence. Also have the fleet relay a message to Revan's fleet at Taris, informing him that we've completed our mission objectives and will be returning to space soon to wait for further orders."

The young padawan hesitated before he answered.

"Please excuse me for saying so, General," Torii responded, a bit off balance as he was unsure as to whether he should speak his mind, "but shouldn't that message be sent to Malak? After all, he is still in the system and is also second-in-command under Rev-"

"-I will not take orders from that man…" Kai responded, a venom dripping from his voice that caused the young padawan to edge back a bit in surprise at the response. He had never heard the General speak in such a way, with such anger and disgust on his voice that seemed to sprout at the mere mention of that certain name.

The Jedi hopeful bit his tongue. For though he was immensely bothered by General Lugo's revulsion for Malak, as any other person within war effort would have been, he respected Kai too much as a leader to speak against him. Without another thought, Torii clicked his heels together and saluted towards Kai's turned back. "As you wish, General."

The young padawan quickly made his leave of the docking bay, leaving Kai once again to star ominously with only his thoughts to tend to.

"Two hundred thousand people… how many of them were really Mandalorians, I wonder?" Kai imagined that only a handful of that number had been Mandalorians that were part of the original war effort, the rest being either those who sympathized with the Mandalorian way of living or were enslaved into the cause. He suspected the number of latter far outweighed the former.

"But they all deserved to die, right Malak," Kai said, only to voice his frustration of the whole matter. He could never bring himself to listen to an order or even a suggestion from that giant of a man, as everything about Malak seemed to assault Lugo's senses. And that same coldness spread so easily to those who served under Malak, his soldiers and Jedi followers ready to strike down any he deemed not worthy of life.

Often Malak and Kai came to verbal blows whenever they were forced by situation to be in eachother's presence, a situation they both preferred to avoid. Kai had little doubt that it was only by the will of Revan that he was still part of the war effort, as Malak had often gone to Revan to demand the Jedi General's dismissal. The galaxy still needed a Jedi like him. That was how Revan had put it when Kai had asked him why he had refused the request.

Staring out towards the sky now, feeling lost as he was surrounded by so much death, Kai wondered what Revan had meant by his reply.

"General Lugo!"

Kai quickly pulled himself away from his thoughts at the screaming of his name. He turned to find his caller, and found it to be one of the Republic soldiers standing with a group consisting of four others, along with two Jedi. Yet only the soldier who called to him looked in his direction, the rest stared intently at the back of a small personnel shuttle, the only ship left within that massive bay. He also noticed that every one of them had their blasters pulled, and the two Jedi had their lightsabers at the ready.

"What is it," Kai asked as he approached the preoccupied group.

The soldier that had first called to him, a boy a few years younger than Torii, answered the General in a low whisper. "Sir, we've detected movement in the cargo compartment on the back of the shuttle."

Kai looked up from the soldier over to the ship. It was a small vessel no bigger than a personnel fighter ship. The cockpit of the vessel looked not even big enough for an armored Mandalorian to fit in, let alone the cargo compartment. Still, Kai could see that the soldiers, and even the Jedi with them, were unnerved at the possibilities.

The General placed a firm hand on the soldier's shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Motion for everyone to move back and not to do anything rash."

"Yes, sir." The young man then walked back over to the group and passed on the General's orders. The seven of them stepped backwards away from the shuttle, forming almost a circle around the back of it. None of them seemed willing to look away from it though.

Kai then proceeded to walk pass the group and up to the left side of the compartment. Turning around to face the group, he placed his left hand on the compartment's handle, signaling everyone to remain calm with his other hand. He would have preferred it if they all had put their weapons away, but he knew that was asking too much from them in their current situation.

Breathing out heavily in hopes that this would turn out all right, Lugo began to count down with the fingers on his free hand. 3…2…1. With a sharp turn of his wrist, Kai undid the locking mechanism and took a step back. The contents of that small compartment fell out over the cold ground, and among them was a young boy who tumbled awkwardly as he fell stomach first onto the floor. The boy quickly rolled himself over after getting his bearings, only to find that he had five blasters and two activated lightsabers pointing in his direction.

Kai quickly jumped in between the frightened child and the rest of the group. "I said not to do anything rash!"

"General sir!" the soldier who had first approach spoke up as he kept his blaster leveled in the kid's direction, which was through the Lugo. "That kid's a Mandalorian! Look at him! He's wearing Mandalorian armor!"

Kai turned for a moment to actually get a good look at the boy, a child of no more than thirteen to fifteen years with long brownish-red hair. He wore a worn traveler's robe with long, loose sleeves. And under that, Kai could see clearly that the soldier had spoken truthfully. Though the child was still too young and too small for the full set, he wore upon him several pieces of Mandalorian armor, including their boots and greeves and what looked to be a customized chest plate made of durasteel, like that used by Mandalorian warriors.

Kai did not turn back to the group though. Instead he completely turned his persona around to face the boy, who looked as if on the edge of suffering a major panic attack. The child having looked around him and seen the bodies of Mandalorians, people he likely knew, Kai understood his fear completely. The same could not be said for the others who kept their weapons at the ready.

"Back down," Lugo commanded of those around him as he stared calmly at the boy.

Many among the group casted the man confused looks, including the two Jedi present, but none of them complied.

"But General!" It was the same soldier who responded. "He's a Mandalorian! We can't let him live, even if he's just a kid! He's just as guilty as the rest of th-"

Kai had slowly turned his head and casted the soldier a dark glare that made the man choke on his own tongue. Again the General gave an order to those around him, but this time his voice was solid and cold.

"I said back down…"

This time no one dared to ignore his order. In unthreatening motions, the five soldiers placed their blasters back in their holsters, and the pair of Jedi retracted their beams.

With nothing threatening now pointed in the boy's direction, Kai turned back to him and raised his hands in hopes the lad would understand that he did not intend to harm him. However this did not work as the Jedi General had hoped. Rather than taking it as a sign of good intention, the boy saw it as a chance to flee. He refused to stand up, however, as if his legs were too paralyzed with anxiety to support his wait.

Rather, he started to crawl along the ground, using the back of his hands and legs to push himself rapidly away from those standing over him. He was too afraid to look away, or even see where he was going.

"Calm down child." Kai spoke very lightly with his hands still in the air. He knew that the boy did not understand him as the fear refused to dissipate from his eyes, but the General hoped he would at least become less anxious by hearing a compassionate voice.

Unfortunately the child did not relent his attempt to get away, moving slowly along the floor. Yet his progress was suddenly as he crawled right into something on the ground. Losing his balance, the child's fell backwards onto the object he had not yet identified. As he tried to pick himself up again, the boy turned to look at what it was that he had run into.

Kai could see the beads of sweat fall down the terrified youth's face when he saw the decapitated body of a mandolin in full body armor. Something of a low-pitched yell escaped the boy's lips. His chest began to rise and fall at a rapidly increasing rate as he started to hyperventilate.

"You are all right, boy. Nothing bad is going to happen to you." Kai continued trying to talk to the youth, but it was apparent that his voice was not reaching the child.

"Aww… just shoot the wretched thing already and be done with him," one of the soldiers stand behind the General suddenly said. He then proceeded to pull his blaster from its holster once again.

Kai whipped his head around hard to look upon the man who reached for his weapon. "No!"

It was too late though. The boy had seen the man reaching for his weapon and responded to it, though in a way that no one could have known he would.

Sticking his right arm straight out in the direction of the soldier who was about to level off his blaster, the boy pulled back violently on the sleeve of his robe, revealing a wrist launcher underneath strapped to his forearm.

Time seemed to slow down as now the soldiers and the Jedi realized that the boy was armed, and they tried to act accordingly, reaching for their own weapons. But the youth had the advantage of already having his weapon pulled and aimed. And before the pair of Jedi could even activate their lightsabers, the boy's pushed the trigger on his launcher.

Kai had turned around in time only to recognize that the boy had a weapon and that he aimed it in the direction of the soldier and Jedi standing behind him and off to his right. The next thing he saw was a miniature missile erupting from the boy's launcher.

General Lugo barely registered the next few moments as they happened, as only the most basic of thoughts passed through mind, leaving his body to act almost instinctually.

He saw the missile flying through the air. He saw that it was heading straight for the group standing fifteen feet behind him. What he did next was beyond the scale of anything any other Jedi could have done within those few moments that did not even add up to a single second.

Seeing the missile fly, Kai stuck out his left hand in its direction. Through his will over the Force that reacted faster than any being could comprehend, General Lugo reached out to the missile. It was moving with too much propulsion for the man to push it away safely from everyone. Still, he did not hesitate or think about his choice. There was no time for either.

With a trained will of mind, Kai pulled at that flying projectile, and homed it in on its new target.

Into the palm of his left hand…

_(2)Ulcisco is derived from the Latin word 'ulciscor' which means 'to take vegeance on or for something or someone'. It will make sense later…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Some time later…_

Quiet… everything became just so quiet…

An impenetrable blackness filled all of Kai's senses as he was ripped from the world around him. He felt nothing. He saw nothing. All was silent and still, as if the world had suddenly died around him.

Or perhaps he was the one that was dead. He honestly wasn't sure. Such feelings of disconnection from the world were often his companions in the last few years of his life. With so much pain and death surrounding him, ripping into him in body and mind, becoming detached from one's self was what kept him pushing through the misery. As his mind drifted within that darkness, he wondered if being in such a state was what it really meant to be dead, regardless if the heart in his chest still beat.

A part of him desired to stay there, to let the emptiness completely consume every last of his senses and then consume him as well. He felt neither pain nor fear, his mind free from suffering all struggles. He could not feel the echoes of screams resonating through his mind, freeing him at last from their agonizing weight.

But as soon as he heard a voice call him from beyond the void, he realized that he would not be allowed to stay in such bliss any longer. The bonds of life were pulling at him once again.

"…Wake up, Lugo…"

The voice of the living, a familiar one at that, pulled at his senses like a hook reeling his mind back into consciousness. And with it was every sense that he so quickly had forgotten.

The first thing Kai realized as he came back to life was that he was lying down upon a soft surface. His eyes strained from the burn of the bright light that shined upon him from a ceiling lamp. The low hum of some machine or other could be heard around him.

"Ahh… so our little General was able to survive his own stupidity… how fortunate…" said another voice in a low and unnervingly grainy tone. The speaker sounded completely indifferent to the fact that Lugo was alive. And this one was also familiar, though Kai immediately felt repulsed by hearing it when he realized whom the voice belonged to.

The rest of Lugo's senses quickly recuperated as his mind began to retain focus of his surroundings. He found himself lying upon a medical bed, surrounded by machines that he did not recognize.

What had happened to him, he wondered? Though his sense of his surroundings had returned to him, his memories of recent events still remained a jumbled blurr, with faces and places mixing into a disoriented mess.

"…Where am I?" The question came weakly from the General's throat as it was uncomfortably parched. He felt as if he hadn't moved in such a long time and every attempt he made now only resulted in aches and pain. He still did not lift his head to look upon his apparent company that chose to remain out of his sight. Even more disturbing to him was a feeling of detachment he felt emanating from his torso, a strange new sensation that he did not enjoy.

"You are on my command ship, the Executor. You've been here for quite some time, General Kai Lugo…"

That voice… it was all too familiar to Lugo. It carried with it both a strength of will and a charisma that Kai had noticed the first time he had heard the voice, upon the training grounds of the Jedi enclave of Dantooine.

Struggling to force his numb body to cooperate, General Lugo found the endurance to get himself to sit upward. His arms and back ached with every motion, but he placed such trivial pain out of his mind. After first getting himself to sit upright, Kai's eyes began to focus on the two individuals who overshadowed his form as they stood near the far end of the bed. One stood in front of the other, the one in front was only an inch or so shorter than Kai himself was, his eyes were a few shades of color lighter than the thick brown of his hair, which was about as long as Kai's was at the time. The features of his facial expression were soft, yet carried a sharpness in them that projected an easily seen charismatic trait. That, accompanied by the unique set of unique, albeit a bit dark, robes that completely covered his persona, made it apparent that Revan was every bit the leader that all those under his command saw him as.

And behind him stood the owner of the other voice, whom Kai was unthankful in having to see. In General Lugo's eyes, there was nothing charismatic about Malak. What strength the man possessed that the Republic forces admired so much was as raw and brutish as every tactic and plan Malak ever conceived and executed during the last few years of the Mandalorian Wars. His was an iron will without subtlety or ingenuity, much like the terentatek beasts fabled in Jedi legends.

Kai's eyes drifted between focusing on the two men as they stood attentively a little beyond the end of the bed. He found that he was having trouble concentrating, as his thoughts seemed to sway beyond his control.

"I'm amazed that you can sit up," Malak remarked, seemingly amused by Kai's lack of balance, "with all the anesthetics swimming in your blood, you shouldn't even have the capacity to blink. The Force is overly motherly to the weak willed, I suppose…"

Ignoring both the man's words and presence, Kai placed his attention upon the Jedi knight who stood silently before him. Revan kept his arms crossed tightly over his chest and stared hard upon Lugo, as if deeply pondering something about the bedridden man.

"Revan…what is going on? I thought you were at Taris."

"That was over a month ago, Lugo," Revan responded, his expression remaining passive.

"A month…?" Kai echoed. He took in the passage of time with a bit of a shock. He couldn't believe that it had been that long. A whole month! For him, Dxun had been but a few moments ago. His mind suddenly grasped at his last few memories of being conscious. Images of the raided Mandalorian fortress and deaths of so many came rushing back to him. He recalled the fleets of Basilisk war droids lying hidden within the dense and humid jungles. He recalled traversing the merciless mine fields that tore into his friends and allies without exception. He recalled the raid on the Mandalorian stronghold. And he recalled being in a hangar bay and…

"The boy!" Kai suddenly blurted out. "What happened to the boy?"

Revan and Malak were both caught off guard by Lugo's sudden exhilaration as he barely had the energy to pick himself up but a moment ago.

"-The Mandalorian kid that we found within the shuttle bay!" Kai quickly clarified. "What happened to him?"

Revan was a bit taken back by the concern Kai was showing, especially for a Mandalorian child.

"You mean the one who attacked you on Dxun?"

Kai and Revan both turned to look upon Malak as he spoke up, both being surprised that the man knew of the one Kai had mentioned.

Malak snorted indifferently as he leaned back against the far wall with his arms crossed. "It was irresponsible of you to put your men in jeopardy like that, Lugo, especially for the sake of a Mandalorian."

Kai expression suddenly became very dark and radiated an inner anger and repulsion for the man and his righteous, indifferent attitude. His voice dripped with venom as he repeated himself one last time.

"What happened to him?"

"A barrage of blaster bolts. That's what happened to him." Malak answered flatly.

The Kai's face suddenly became very pale as he took in Malak's meaning. His eyes became distraught as they turned downwards.

He remembered what he had thought in that moment when he had found that young child hiding within the cargo compartment of that little shuttle. It had been his chance to save a life rather than to take it, to live up to being the Jedi that he wanted to be. He could have saved him. He should have been able to save him! But then…

"That soldier…" Kai's eyes seemed to light up with recognition and anger as he looked back upon Revan and Malak. "Who was he?"

"What soldier," Revan asked, ask confused as Malak apparently was by Lugo's intent.

"The one who pulled out his weapon when I gave the order not to!" Kai shouted back as if it was obvious. "Who was it!?"

"Watch your tone, Lugo," Malak responded in and angered voice as his eyes became dangerous. "You would do well to address your superiors with resp-"

"Was he one of your men, Malak!?" Kai continued, completely ignoring Malak's attempted warning.

Malak's expression quickly came to mirror the General's. "What did you say!?"

"I'd figure he was originally one of your underlings! He was certainly bloodthirsty and heartless enou-"

Kai's words became stuck in his throat as Malak suddenly had his massive hand around it, cutting off the bedridden man's breath.

With a strength fueled by both intense training and uncontrolled rage, Malak proceed to lift Kai from where he sat with only the use of his right arm, and slammed the man's back hard against the nearby wall. Having not the strength of body to attempt to free himself, General Lugo hung like a rag doll in Malak's overpowering grasp, his bare feet hanging a good six inches or so off the ground.

"That insolent tongue of yours is going to get you killed, Lugo." Malak's voice was darker and colder than ever Kai or Revan had ever heard. His enormous hand clamped all the tighter as Kai struggled to breathe.

In the midst of being choked to death, Kai found himself sensing Malak's uncontrolled rage, something the clairvoyant Jedi had noticed at almost every meeting with the man. It has always been within him, at first nothing but a flickering flame within the dark. But now, with the blood of conflict having fueled that tiny flicker, it now consumed the man in every act and decision, almost radiating from his body like waves of heat. Malak would enjoy killing him, Kai was certain of it.

It was rather a surprise for the General when Malak's hand unexpectedly fell away from his neck. Yet, instead of simply falling limply onto the floor, Kai found himself levitating effortlessly in the air, leaving the two men dumbfounded. Malak shot his gaze downwards to find that he also was no longer standing on the ground, but rather hovering a few inches above it.

Both men turned their gazes to look upon the third occupant of the small room, who held out a stable hand towards the pair.

"Enough," Revan finally said, sounding completely indifferent to the display of anger that had just occurred before him. "You two waste your breaths about as much as you waste your and, more importantly, my time."

"Put me down, Revan." Though his voice was not near as cold as it had been with Lugo, Malak still spoke with venom on his tongue.

Before complying with his friend's humble request, Revan returned Kai to the medical bed and carried Malak back to his original position next to the chamber doorway.

"Your presence is not required, Malak," Revan noted in a matter-of-fact tone. "Return to your fleet and await my orders there. If I see it that there is something here that you need to know, I'll see that you receive it."

A different sort of anger was evident in Malak then by the way he looked upon his friend and commander. "I will-"

"-I gave you an order, Malak." Revan stared firmly towards his friend as he spoke, showing neither willingness to comply with anything Malak desired to say nor the patience to listen to any of it.

The rage seemed to increase within Malak from being commanded in such a way. Fortunately reason seemed to win over anger this time and the towering giant complied, but not before tossing General Lugo one last cold glare, a look that Kai was all to happy to return before the man disappeared beyond the sliding door.

With Malak beyond sight, Kai proceeded to cough up his choked breath and soothed his pained throat with his right hand. "I can't understand what drives you to fight beside such a-"

"-What the hell did you hope to accomplish!" Revan's yelled as he turned back around to stare back at Kai, with just as much anger in his eyes as there was in his voice.

Kai found himself a bit taken back by the man's sudden ferocity. He had seen Revan impassioned before, angry even, but the way he presented himself now was far more enraged than the General had ever seen the man. He wondered if Revan had actually stopped Malak only so he could kill Kai himself.

Kai did not let such unnerve him though, looking back at Revan with a stern expression. "If I am to have my decisions judged, it will not be by that butcher of a Jedi!"

"Then it shall be by me!" Revan stated with as much finality as when he ordered Malak to leave. "What did you hope to prove by sparing that boy?"

The coldness of such a statement made the nerves in Kai's neck tense up a little, and for a moment he wondered if Malak's sense of righteous elimination of all Mandalorians was due to his own views or those that Revan likely placed within him, but he kept such thoughts to himself.

"He was frightened and appeared unarmed," Kai finally answered, though even he realized that his words sounded more like an excuse than proper reasoning as he said the word 'appeared'.

Apparently Revan had not missed their frivolity either. "Unarmed…? How could you have known if he was? Did you have him properly searched first?"

That General Lugo wasn't able to look Revan in the eye after he had asked such a question was all the answer Revan needed. The man grunted as if sadly amused by his Lugo's poor decision making.

Still, Kai needed to defend his hesitation in the matter, if only so he could hear himself defend it. "He was a child, Revan. A boy whom was likely enslaved into the Mandalorian numbers, just like millions of others his age. Like the millions of slaves on Taris that would have been had you not gone there to stop them.

"That boy would have been beaten and broken in the years that he undoubtedly suffered under Mandalorian enslavement," Revan countered as he paced about the room, only taking his eyes off General Lugo when he had to turn. "By the time they allowed him to walk among their numbers, they would have made sure that he was willing to shoot anyone they told him to point a blaster at, especially Republic soldiers and especially a Jedi."

There was no flaw in Revan's reasoning, though such was always expected of the man who everyone looked to as a savior. The boy would not have shown him the same empathy had the roles been reversed, Kai knew this. He thought it likely the boy had only hesitated in drawing his weapon upon first seeing the inavding force was because he had been afraid of dying.

And in the end, he died because he was afraid.

But this time it was Kai who spoke flatly in a low whisper of a voice, slowly speaking his words in a way that made it clear that he would not allow them to be questioned.

"At least I gave him the chance to prove otherwise…"

In an act not common to someone of his stature, Revan seemed to stumble over his own voice as he tried to respond. It was not often that Revan was thrown off by another's words, the role of leader and hero had demanded nothing less than absolution from him in every choice and act. And then there was Kai Lugo, a man Revan had known would become a great leader ever since he first met him upon Dantooine, before word of the Mandalorian invasion set them both upon their current paths. For Revan, the role of leader has always meant sacrifice and compromise. He saved lives by destroying others, saved millions by sacrificing thousands, and, above all else, gave up both his humanity and morals in order to prevent what he saw as the greater evil.

But Kai… he would have none of it. Even as he sat there upon the medical bed, broken and beaten, Revan could feel the ache within the man. He had felt it within Kai for several years now, growing with every battle and every death, like a disease spreading internally. It was a pain Revan had detached from himself from, burying down beneath a cold layer of conviction and righteousness.

And now before him lied someone who willing endured that pain, neither cutting himself off from it nor letting it consume him.

The two men stared at each other for a few seconds, both of their gazes being strong and determined, yet Revan's eyes hinted at something a bit more. For a moment, Kai wondered if Revan understood why such a thing was so important to him, why he had hesitated for one person's sake.

Revan found himself again quickly, but his words came now without the presence of anger, but almost a sadness brought about by sheer reasoning. "Grasping onto your ideologies in a war is like trying to hold small pieces of razor-like glass in hands slippery with warm blood, Kai. The harder you have to squeeze to remain holding them, the deeper they will scar you. You would do better to simply let go of most of them and simply grasp onto the certainty of what you know you can accomplish…"

Indeed, Revan's voice did sound almost sad as he said that, almost as though he spoke not of his beliefs, but of sheer experience. Kai could not tell which.

Very noticeably Revan's eyes suddenly drifted downwards from staring at Lugo's, coming to a halt over the left side of the man's exposed chest. "Even an act of kindness can have greater repercussions than you know…"

What was it that Revan was staring at, the General wondered? Had he a full recollection of what had happened in the shuttle bay, he would have been more hesitant than he was at the time to look himself. But he did not remember those last few moments, and such he had no reason to hesitate.

And as he looked down upon his own flesh, the battle-hardened man found he lost all voice and breath. It all came flooding back to him then, what he had done in those final moments.

Indeed, his left arm had felt rather strange ever since he had awoken.

Because it was not really his left arm…

Starting from the upper left where his neck met his shoulder, a circular groove line traveled down to the middle of his upper chest and all the way to his left hip. Though Kai could not see it, he imagined that the groove traveled in its bilateral shape all the up his back to where it started at his shoulder.

And General Lugo, to his silent horror, knew what such a thing meant. He had seen such grooves upon several combat veterans, and each time it had been the result of the same type of operation.

The evident sign of pseudo flesh implantation…

Coldness drifted down Kai's spine as he felt his heart leap into his throat, a sensation worse than any the war veteran had known. The passive feelings that he had once recognized within the left side of his body were now nothing more than ghosts of remembrance, replaced with a technological feat that felt completely dead to General Lugo.

"Your left arm, left lung, liver, stomach, pancreas, several fragments of bones, several miles worth of blood vessels and nerves, a kidney, two feet worth of large intestine, thirty-five feet of small intestine, and, if the carbonite had reached your heart, one of my few select. That is what that Mandalorian boy's failure cost you, and nearly cost me." Revan voice carried not the weight of empathy. His words had been simple truth, nothing more.

What strength Kai had recovered seemed to melt away just as quickly as it had returned to him. The weight of his failure to save that boy, that lost, scared child, had already been a terrible burden upon his mind. Now added to that was the realization that a good portion of his body was nothing more than cybernetic prosthetics, pieces of metal and wire. His strength of will was failing him quickly in those quiet moments.

"It may take a week or so," Revan said, his voice now hinting at the least bit of compassion, "but you should be able to use that arm of yours as well as your original. You will need it."

Kai remained silent, alleviating some of the weight of his thoughts and emotions as he dropped his head into the grasp of his raised right hand. He listened to the sound of Revan walking away and the opening of the sliding door.

"Your squadrons have been under my command since your leave, Kai," Revan continued as he stood facing the entrance. "They will be returned to you once you've regained you strength."

As Revan was about to step through the portal, Kai suddenly found his voice once again, though he did not raise his head. "Revan."

Hearing the low whisper of his name being called out caused Revan to stop, but he did not turn back around to look at the one who called him. It would not have mattered, as Kai did not look at him either. He simply had a question that he wanted to ask before he wanted to be left alone with his grief.

"Why are you not wearing your mask?"

The lack of movement was soon accompanied by a deep silence as neither man said another word for several moments. It had been a question that Kai had wondered since he first saw Revan when he had awoken. He had not bothered to ask it at first because it seemed so trivial at the time, but now he found himself drawn back to the matter. Why was it that Revan, who had not appeared in front of others without his helmet on for many years since the beginning of the war, now deigned not to wear it when speaking to his bedridden General?

A heavy sigh escaped Revan's lips as he continued to stare straight out the doorway. Did he not want to answer? Did he not have an answer? Or perhaps he simply did not know why?

But Revan eventually did answer, likely only having hesitated because he needed to think upon the answer he would give more than his reason for doing such.

"I wear a mask… because the galaxy needs me to right now, Kai. The galaxy needs a will and a standard, not the face behind such things."

"Then why are you not wearing it now," Kai asked once again.

After another long pause, Revan answered.

"Because it is hard to see what one needs to see while one's eyes are behind a mask."

It was only then that Kai raised his head to look at the man as he stood in the doorway. Lugo had never truly thought of Revan as being superior to him. He thought of the man as someone he respected. Someone he would follow and take orders from, but not superior. For within Revan, Kai felt much the same pain that he felt within himself. And like him, Revan chose to bury pain and anger, to not let it take precedence in how he defined himself or what he did. A rather unique choice compared to the many among their numbers like Malak who chose to embrace the pain and let it drive their actions.

"We do what we need to do, Kai."

Revan spoke with an absolution that came not from a leader of armies or a Jedi, but from Revan himself.

"And right now, we need to win this war."

With those last words, Revan walked out of room, his presence disappearing behind the sliding door, leaving his General alone with his thoughts and his pain.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

For nearly half an hour, Kai's voice was the only sound that could be heard within the confines of the main hull of the Ebon Hawk as he recounted the fateless events that had led to his current condition. Its only accompaniment had been the random clicks and noises that occurred as Bao-Dur quietly worked upon the wound on the Exile's left arm with the delicacy of a surgeon.

"What do you think, Mandalore," the Exile suddenly asked in a lighthearted voice, "should I have simply killed the boy and have been done with it?"

Canderous, who had acted as if he had not been listening while he worked at the console, turned his helmet to gaze in Kai's direction. "If it was something you needed to do, Jedi, fine. But it extremely thick-headed of you not to even check the kid for weapons."

The Exile left out a light laugh. "I could not agree more with you, Mandalorian."

Truthfully Lugo had expected Canderous to say that he should have had the kid shot and saved himself the trouble. He appreciated that the man at lest respected that what the Exile had done had been important to him.

The Iridonian, in truth, had only been half-listening to the former General's tale. His mind was so engrossed in what he was doing that all that was being said around him only passed through his ears. He just could not pull his fascination away from the complexity and the architecture of the device he was now working on.

"Custom cybernetic prosthetics with an exoskeleton constructed of durasteel alloy. And finished off with a layer of pseudo flesh."

Bao-Dur's words seemed only for the purpose of speaking his own fascination for a device he had never seen the likes of before. Though the Iridonian had learned some about prosthetics after having lost his own arm during the war, none of the ones he had seen were comparable to the design of Kai's.

One that was so much more advanced. So unique.

"Such a mechanism should have taken months to design and construct. All in one month…"

"Revan had no use for a cripple, and even less for a corpse," Lugo responded as he leaned forward in his seat, hanging his head as he reminisced about the incident. His left arm hung freely on his side as Bao-Dur continued his repairs. It was not the first time that his arm needed maintenance work. Still, there was something unsettling about seeing a technician taking a hydrospanner to what others and, over several years, Kai himself came to perceive as a part of his body. He couldn't help but feel like he had lost his arm all over again as he heard the little metallic clicks as Bao-Dur continued his work. The sight of the Iridonian pulling a damaged micron out of the gaping wound made the feeling all the more potent. Yet the Exile at least took some comfort in knowing that the one repairing his arm now was someone who could appreciate such feelings.

"How bad does it look?"

"At this point, General, I am simply trying to remove what is unsalvageable. It must have been quite a blow to cut through durasteel plating and damage the interior like this."

Kai's eyes suddenly became intense as the last moments of Malachor V were suddenly brought forward from the back of his mind, where he had hoped to leave them forgotten until he felt the need to look upon them. Those timeless moments where the man found himself fighting the battle he had wished to avoid above all others, against the woman whom, like so many others, he was not allowed to save.

Bao-Dur pulled his tools aside for a moment and stared hard at the wound. It was a habit of his that the Exile had noticed on several occasions, where the Iridonian would simply stand around and concentrate hard upon a damaged or malfunctioning contraption, seemingly taking it apart with nothing more than his eyes and mind. Kai recollected something Brianna had mentioned to him once, how the technician's skills with machines were truly an ability to behold. Indeed, as Bao-Dur sat silently next to him, his right hand resting on his chin, his eyes staring without waver as his mind undoubtedly dissected the Exile's arm down to the most miniscule circuit, Kai found the Handmaiden's words to be very evident.

After a few more silent moments, Bao-Dur left out a heavy sigh as he apparently finished his observations, which hinted at an undesirable assessment. He looked back at Kai then with seriousness in his eyes. "General, you said that you can not feel your left arm at all sir?"

"Not since it was damaged, no," Kai answered, unsure as to why the technician seemed more than a little uneasy about it.

Again Bao-Dur let out a heavy sigh, apparently having received the answer he had not desired. "The damaged microns, I can replace. I have more than enough of them on the ship that I use for repair the droids when needed."

Kai knew there was more to it than that, otherwise the Iridonian would not have looked as unsatisfied as he did. "But…"

"But if your arm stopped functioning as you say it did General," Bao-Dur continued, "then that means that the main circuitry has been damaged."

What little the Exile could say he knew of mechanics was all related to one of two things: his lightsaber, and his arm. Master Kavar had often told him whilst training that in order to master wielding of double blades, one first had to know and master their own body. And Kai Lugo knew his own, right down to the last servos. The main circuitry functioned much like the nerves in one's spine, receiving and sending signals at unprecedented speeds. To sever such connections in a spine was to paralyze a person. And if Bao-Dur was correct in his assumption…

"Can you repair it?"

Slowly the Iridonian shook his head. "If it were an energy arm, perhaps, but my knowledge of biomechanics does not encompass enough for me to be willing to try the repair by myself."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Kai leaned back in his chair, letting his head fall backwards as it became apparent that his damaged arm was more of an issue than he had hoped for.

The technician's eyes drifted for a moment as he pondered the question. "General, the Republic Military would likely still have the schematics for the device, if we returned to-"

"-I don't have that kind of time, Bao-Dur" Kai interrupted, his voice being calm, yet bearing a weight that no one in the main hull missed hearing. A weight that was formed from something that every one of them knew of yet none of them desired to speak of.

The Iridonian did not push the suggestion any further.

"Your best bet would be to try and get help in Izziz," Mandalore suggested. "I imagine queen Talia has a few prosthetic specialists that would be willing to lend you a spare in gratitude of your generous actions, if nothing else."

Although the Exile knew it had not been the Mandalorian's intent to be humorous, Kai could not help but laugh openly at the statement.

"What's so funny, Jedi?"

"Nothing Mandalore," Kai said with a shrug of his shoulders and not attempting to hide his amused smile. "I was just thinking that we should pick up a few particle emitters and ion packs while we are out scouting for a new arm." He began to laugh again. Apparently catching the joke, the Iridonian joined him in the humor, though Mandalore maintained his passive silence.

"Probably can pick one up at a discount rate, General," Bao-Dur added as he flexed his energy arm. "A two-for-one deal."

The pair busted out in hearty laughs again, and even the Mandalorian gave a small chuckle.

In such times, having a sense of humor seemed to make all the troubles and all the inevitable seem just a bit smaller, and though none of the three men said it, they all appreciated such.

Her thrusts and kicks were ever so precise as her limbs sliced through the thin air of the cargo hold. It was an intricate combination of motion upon motion, weaving themselves within each other to form the mesmerizing dance of the Echani combat forms. Each motion spoke of absolute control with no act left to chance or carelessness. Even the gaze of her light-blue eyes did not tremble in the least.

Little could cause the Handmaiden to falter whilst in such a state of mind where all her focus was directed upon absolute control of the self. She did not even notice the exhaustion coursing through her body and the aches of her limbs from overuse after hour upon hour of relentless training.

Still, even she could not ignore her shortness of breath as her lungs pleaded for air.

Perhaps more than the perfection of her form did Brianna seek the inhibitions of exhaustion that such training brought about. The lack of energy and breath made it hard for her disturbed thoughts and feelings to take hold of her. For she feared such internal struggles at the moment, when much more important battles would soon need to be fought.

Yet as her body traversed the delicate movements, the child of the Echani could not help but be reminded of those that she had so often done such training beside. Those whom she had known all her life. Those that had called her sister and she had betrayed for what she saw as the greater purpose. Those that demanded her death for such a betrayal. And, in the end, those that she was forced to kill…

"I must train harder," she said to herself in a strained voice as the weight of her thoughts pressed down upon her more and more with each pause and hesitation. Despite the aches and numbness she felt, Brianna continued with her exercises without hesitance. Her desire to be free of that voice inside her mind compelled her to continue without any sign of relief.

"Your suffering pulses still… sister of the Echani…"

The soft sound of an eerily calm voice cut through the Handmaiden's concentration as effectively as a blade. It was the voice of someone she had once looked upon with nothing but contempt. All that Brianna had despised about the Sith she had believed was reflected within this particular woman. Looking back at her judgments and actions now, she knew and accepted that what she had felt then had been the result of her own naivetes and desire to persecute. She had wanted to hate the woman, to fault her with every moment of pain she had ever experienced. A part of her still wanted to do so.

Yet as the Handmaiden turned upon the doorway where the Miraluka stood quietly, she knew that she could no longer find comfort in such prejudice. She could not deny what she knew, that Visas Marr had proven herself to be more than what her master had intended, just as Brianna had herself.

But where that placed the woman in the Handmaiden's perspective, she was uncertain of that as much as she was uncertain of the Miraluka's intent.

"Why are you here?" Brianna attempted to hide the strain of exhaustion in her words, but found she could only be so successful after so much exertion. Something about appearing weak before this blind woman, who could see more than any pair of eyes, bothered the Handmaiden to the point where she fought her own urge to breath heavily.

"I do not know what happened within the confines of the Telos arctic, but I sense that whatever occurred there has tended one wound only to open up another within you."

It more than unnerved the Handmaiden to suddenly find the thoughts and feelings she had been guarding even from herself presented to her within the words of someone she had little desire to have such personal issues conveyed. "Again, you know nothing of what you speak, blind one."

"I have little doubt that you are correct," Visas responded as she stood motionless in the doorway beyond the soft swaying of her robes, "What I feel in you now is a pain I have yet to experience, sister of the Echani. It echoes of betrayal, but not of your own."

Brianna did not waste her effort trying to hide her angered expression as such effort would be wasted on one who could not see.

"My… issues are none of your concern," she responded defiantly.

"You know what is to come, sister of the Echani," Visas responded without hesitance, "the Exile's training has opened your mind, allowing you to see what you were once blind to. And you know what it is that you saw, and what you risk if you allow your own struggles to sway your vision."

Though the Handmaiden desired simply to dismiss the Miraluka's words, she regretfully knew that she could not deny their truth. If her Echani training had taught her anything, it was that being imbalanced was to welcome misfortune upon herself and those she cared about.

And she was imbalanced. That, she could not hide, no matter how many times she practiced her form…

"I only ask that you do not let your pain destroy you and all you hold dear, as mine nearly did…"

With those last words, Visas turned to leave the Handmaiden to her thoughts and training but found her movements halted when a response unexpectedly came from the Echani warrior.

"You are not one to speak of confronting struggles, blind one," Brianna made no attempt to hide the emotions in her words. "I see enough with my eyes to know that you have been avoiding his presence since our escape of Malachor."

Visas gave no response as she stood anonymously beyond the doorway, facing down the hall leading to her quarters. She made no motion to leave.

What emotions the Miraluka was experiencing at that moment was beyond Brianna's ability to feel, and the veil did well to hide any change of expression.

"Why do you avoid being near him," the Handmaiden asked after several silent moments, "what is it that you fear?"

The weight of the question seemed to fall on Visas' shoulders as her head lowered ever slightly. Even without her Force sensitivity, Brianna could feel the pain coming from the enigmatic woman, as it seemed to grasp her tightly.

For a moment, Visas turned her head to face towards the main hull, where she sensed Kai Lugo among the Mandalorian and the Iridonian.

A part of her wanted simply to be in the same room with him, to be within his presence and let his eyes fall upon her. It was the part of her that she now strained to keep silent.

"…I had asked him once already," Visas said after several more soundless moments.

Truthfully, the Handmaiden had not expected to receive an answer, even such an enigmatic one, as she assumed that she would receive the same wall of defiance from the Miraluka as she had given unto her.

"The answer he gave me…" Visas continued, "…it had been the answer that he needed to give. If I had known before that it would pain him as much as it pained me… I would not have asked it of him…"

It was the first time Brianna had ever her the blind woman speak with deep feeling in her voice, and it shook her to her core how strong the emotion was. "What did you ask him?"

"…What I fear, sister of the Echani," Visas spoke onward as if not hearing Brianna's question, "…I fear that if I am near him, that I will ask him once more. And I know the answer he would give, the only answer that he can give, would only cause him more pain… as it would me…"

After having said more than the Handmaiden knew how to respond to or even expected, the cloaked Miraluka started slowly back to her quarters on the starboard side of the ship.

Once again, Brianna found herself alone in the cargo hold, yet now without the sounds of her vigilant training. Everything was still and silent, with but the low rumble given off by the hyperdrive in the other room.

Though the Miraluka's words did cause her to reflect on her inner struggle, she quickly placed it out of mind like before. It was something she felt she could not face at this moment. To place any concern on it at this point would only cause her to waver even more, and she could not risk that.

But even more so than her own conflict, Brianna found herself wondering about Visas. What turmoil was it that she endured? Brianna was unsure, only certain that it in some way related to the Exile and that the blind one now feared she would cause him harm.

"I thought you said you could not harm him," she quietly muttered to herself as she fell within a combat stance, preparing to begin the cycle of movements once again.

In reverence to the once great Sith Lord whom ruled over the lands of Onderon and so much more, a tomb like few others laid silently upon the planet's life brimming moon. Its massive walls echoed with spirits of the Dark Side, whispering of a dead man's legacy to all those who listened.

A great statue stood silently within the deepest recesses of this light forsaken place, radiating the power of presence alone that was once possessed by the one which it mirrored, the one that was now nothing more than a withered carcass within a sarcophagus at the monument's feet.

Only recently, after so many generations of being home to only the shadows of times long past, has life once again stepped foot upon the tombs cold stone floors. Those whom sought to feast upon the last remnants of the deceased Dark Lord's came to fill their unending hunger.

Now their bodies filled the halls that were for so long vacant, and their dying cries joined the ever-resounding echoes. The flesh rots from the bones, as Time claims what the Force did not, leaving the stench of decay to symbolize how foul a being can become within.

Yet among such empty and meaningless death, a cold spark of life found its solitude, kneeling upon the ground in front of Freedon Nadd's tomb with the hood of his robe pulled securely over his head and shading his eyes from the bleak torch light.

Was he a Jedi? No. No Jedi would seek what this man sought, what he had sought for he last ten years of his life. And if any Jedi had seen this man, they would think him a Sith.

But no, he was no Sith. What he sought, what he devoted his nights and days and every moment in between to, was not something a Sith would completely devote themselves to. A Sith sought power above all else, and though he himself sought power, it would have a greater purpose than to simply be his.

His voice could barely be distinguished over the crackling noises of the nearby flames. "What is it, dear brothers and sisters? You say he returns? That he is finally coming to us?"

Like four before him, the four whose bodies decorated the floor on the other side of the massive reflective pool, this man drew upon the energies that hung within the very air of the room, forcefully pulling them into his being, and growing stronger with every inhale.

A somewhat hushed, maniacal laugh escaped the man's lips and echoed through the emptiness that surrounded him. "Oh he approaches, my dear siblings. He finally returns to face all he betrayed. What shall I do with him when he arrives?"

A sadistic smile formed between the man's gray lips. "Shall I rip out his throat as he begs for forgiveness? Shall I burn out his sorrow-filled eyes as they see me eradicate every last thing he cares for? The possibilities excite me, dear ones. What do you think I should do?"

The only response that came for him was the echo in the darkness. And yet he listened intently, grasping onto every word as only he heard them.

He stood up slowly then, nodding his head as he understood all that he heard. "Ah… too true, too true. You are right, as usual, dear siblings. Business before pleasure."

Reaching out with his right hand behind him, the lightsaber of one of the fallen on the far side of the pool flew across the distance and into his waiting grasp.

"The Mandalorians still lay claim to the Dxun moon. We still have not completed our mission…"

Bringing the weapon before him, the deep red of the beam sprung to life within the darkness, covering all that was close with its blood-like hue.

"Father told us to exterminate the beasts from this land. I shall succeed where his favored and traitorous son failed…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Time always seemed to pass in one of two ways for the crew of the Ebon Hawk. To those whom were so caught up in every moment of their wake, the Ebon Hawk was as constricting as a force cage, seemingly choking the life from them with every moment that they spent within its metal walls, with the constant low rumbles about them to numb their senses.

For those who welcomed the silence and the sensation of time standing still it brought, it never seemed to last long enough. Always was there something to disrupt the stillness of their thoughts. Even as the ship traveled through the rifts of hyperspace, they could already feel the shadow of the future looming over their blissful moments.

Kai was of the latter, and had been so for most of his life, ever since he was "elected" into the Jedi order. As the Exile sat within the confines of the main hull, the rest of the ship's crew slumbered quietly except say for a certain pilot who snored like a wookie. Upon the console station, Kai had placed an old tin kettle upon a portable heating stand, bringing the containers contents to a steady boil. The silence upon the Ebon Hawk almost seemed to have a presence for the Exile now, as he found its company often within the ship. At this moment though, he also found himself reminiscing of times long past when he could fall asleep without a wink of effort, and when all he cared about was where he was getting his next meal.

He remembered very little of his childhood, such being because that was when he had lived his life by the moment. He had to always think about the now in order to survive. Life in the lower recesses of Coruscant was unforgiving to those that tried to stand still, especially for a dirty thirteen-year-old orphan boy.

Having no recollection of ever having known someone he would have called mother or father, Kai had made his home among the lower levels, sleeping in a dark, abandoned warehouse and wandering the canals in his wake. He recalled rarely ever feeling or seeing the light of Coruscant Prime as he scrounged about the lower levels. Most of his time he was devoted to the only skill that he had to survive on, a sly hand. He was not alone in his struggles though. Children that were lost, abandoned, or forgotten were a common enough sight within the lower regions, and they at least found strength and comfort in the company of eachother. Several among the countless flocked to Kai's side, following his lead and happily obeying any order he gave. Human, rodian, twilek, and a few other species became part of the massive group that followed young Lugo. In the underworld, one's genetic inheritance provided little, especially among the young.

At the time, he had thought it simply because he was older that they listened to him. The young desired direction in their lives, and Kai gave what little he had. Looking back on it now though, Kai wondered if it had truthfully been more due to his unique ability that they followed him rather than anything he had to offer.

By day he scouted the streets and sometimes the upper levels, looking for easy marks with loose packs. What credits he and those he had trained were able to attain from stealing and selling what they stole barely provided enough to feed their growing numbers. Soon the warehouse was becoming overcrowded with children whom huddled together at night just to stay warm.

Above anything else of his childhood, Kai remembered watching those young ones, grasping onto eachother for sheer life, and feeling their struggle within himself in a way that would not become clear until many years later. They looked to him for salvation, and he did not rest until he gave them what little he could.

By the end of his thirteenth year he barely slept anymore, often collapsing from exhaustion in whatever alley he managed to drag himself into. And yet he always managed to provide for them, more so than any other among them or anyone else. Despite all he did though, disease and malnutrition claimed more than a few. Having no proper means of laying their brothers and sisters to rest, Kai and the others placed the bodies within old and forgotten sewer canals, giving as proper a burial as they could. And with each death, Kai remembered feeling the pain seemingly growing more and more within himself.

One day, out of a sheer desperation to stop anymore of those he watched over from meeting their fate, Kai traveled to the upper levels, farther than he had ever gone before. It took him a few hours to get used to there being so much light above and around him, more than he had ever experienced. Among those who lived beyond the dark lower levels, Kai immediately found that he stood out completely, wearing the worn clothes of a beggar and his long and dirty raven hair flowing freely. He had taken the cleanest robe that he had to cover himself so that it would at least take someone a second glance to figure out that he did not belong among them.

Kai had been cautious about his movements and his glances, knowing that people would suspect him of being the thief that he was. Even though several people walked around with their valuables out, making it easy for anyone to snatch them away, Kai knew that they would not do such unless they had reason to feel so secure. That reason being the large amounts of guards that seemed to be everywhere. More than once did Kai suddenly slip into an alley or through a crowd to avoid those whom tried to follow his movements.

It was too much of a risk trying to take from most of the people. Individuals that walked around casually, finely clothed in expensive garments, likely had more than enough money to track even the most petty of thieves. Rather, Kai spent his time trying to spot those whom looked more of the lower-middle class of society; people that likely did not have the time or the credits to hunt him down should they spot him.

Luckily, after spending more than half the day simply scouting the upper levels, young Kai found more than what he had hoped for. While watching the passing individuals, his eye spotted a small group of robe-wearing travelers.

Kai had never heard of the Jedi when he was young, and hence had no knowledge of their uncommon abilities. All he saw was another easy grab.

Most noticeable among the group had been two certain individuals: a small, green-skinned alien of some sort whom appeared to be of great age, and a beautiful young girl with long, white hair, wearing similar robes of grays and whites, whom was no more than perhaps a year or so older than Kai was himself at the time. Also among the group were a couple adults of varying age, but Kai placed them out of mind. It was the young girl whom had captivated his attention, especially that strange looking device that hung at her left hip.

The little green one sat upon a chair situated on what appeared to be a hover-disc, though Kai could not make out how it was operating. As he recalled Vandar's persona, he laughed a little to himself, finding it funny that even after nearly thirty years, the Jedi Master had looked the same as when he first saw him on Coruscant. He had heard a rumor that Vandar's species, whatever it might be, was known to living nearly the length of a millennium, though Kai always had trouble believing that.

As for young Atris, she may have grown in most ways since that time long ago, but the hard, determined look in her icy blue eyes was always there. Kai recalled trying to get her to smile more than a few times as they grew up within the academies, but she always seemed reluctant to do so as if she was afraid to show any signs of happiness. She was always so dedicated to pursuing a place among the Jedi ranks that everything else seemed to pass her by. Whatever it was that caused her to be so out of touch with the rest of the world and so focused on this single part of it, it had been something had been with her since Kai had first seen her.

It had been a simple enough task for the quick-fingered boy. As he walked pass the group going in the opposite direction, he let his hand appear from beneath his cloak for but a moment, and just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared with the object in hand and its owner none the wiser.

However Kai had only got about two steps before he realized that he had failed to avoid notice. He remembered nearly screaming out in terror as he found himself floating effortlessly in the air by some unknown means. It had hardly been as amusing at the time as it was for the Exile now, but he remembered Master Vandar himself complimenting him on his success, though the rest did not take as kindly to the little thief stealing a lightsaber from among their numbers.

Kai vaguely recalled what happened next as he had found himself being passed from one sets of hands to another, only in to end up sleeping in a small room for three days. He remembered being so afraid of being separated from the other children for so long, images of the hungry, the sick and the dying still within his thoughts.

It was quite a shock to young Lugo when that same little green alien visited him within his confines. In their short time together, Vandar had explained to him of the Force and how such had been leading young Kai through every act and decision, and of his potential in becoming a strong Jedi. Young Lugo would not have believed such things at first, yet something about his strange visitor convinced him to believe what he was hearing. Perhaps it was because Master Vandar carried himself as a person whom did not tell many lies, or, at least, in a way that was different from how everyone Kai had known within the lower levels carried himself or herself. Yet when the Jedi Master had offered him a place among their number, Kai had refused saying that he already had others that he devoted his life to.

Young Lugo had not understood at the time what the elderly alien meant when he responded after a weak laugh that as long as Kai was a part of the world there would always be those that would follow him, whether he desired them or not.

Thinking upon it now, the Exile wondered about Vandar's meaning. Could he have known about it even then, when he was still so young?

It made Kai smile as he thought about the old Master that welcomed him into the Order without hesitation, despite some turbulence with other Masters and a certain fellow padawan whom would call him a thief for a few months. He recalled having liked Master Vandar more than most. He, like Master Kavar, whom he would not meet until many years later, just seemed to understand and accept him for who he was more than others. The elderly Master even went so far as to convince the Coruscant Senate to take in and provide for a warehouse full of orphans, just so young Kai Lugo could join the Jedi without need for hesitance. Kai silently thanked the old Master again as he had so many times since.

"Your thoughts carry you far from here." An ice smooth voice interrupted the pondering man's silence.

Kai smiled softly to himself, having heard the light steps of the woman's approach before she had spoken. "It is somewhat of a bad habit of mine. I rarely am able to stay within a room for more than minute anymore it seems."

Rising from his seat, the Exile turned to look upon the Echani, whom had chosen to stand a bit off from the side of the hall leading to the hyperdrive and the medical bay. Wearing the elegant robes of her mother, Brianna seemed so much different in stature than when Kai had met her within the massive confines of the Telos Academy. The grace of her movements had first appeared as if she were trying to restrain herself from her own impulses. She would strain her eyes to remain focused outwardly, preventing herself from faltering upon her own feelings and desires.

She had so wanted to mirror her sisters, whose eyes bared no reflection of feeling or desire, whose movements in combat reminded Lugo much of the motions of his own left arm when he was first becoming used to having a cold, lifeless piece of machine in place of flesh and blood. She had wanted to be as her sisters were, and extension of their Mistress' will, whatever it may have been.

But now, even her most subtle of movements spoke more than any of her sisters'. And rather than such emanating lust for power and hunger for combat as the Handmaiden had feared, as Atris had feared, she showed a calmness and control she now seemed so much more fulfilled knowing. Where her sisters had only known coldness and emptiness, Brianna now seemed to glow with warmth. And it was beautiful to see.

Though Bao-Dur had done a thorough job of wrapping up the wound on the Exile's arm, Kai had made sure to put on another long-sleeve tunic to cover up the bandages, as his black robe, being sleeveless, would not have hidden that which he felt it better that few knew about. Still, with Brianna in his company, he made sure that his movements were slow and subtle as to not make it apparent that his left arm was as limp as the cloth that draped over it.

Brianna eyed the raven-haired man curiously, her heightened senses telling her that there was something he desired to avoid being noticed, yet she was unable to place what it was. "Is it your thoughts that keep you awake?"

"Not really," Kai responded while lightly shaking his head. "I usually do not sleep more than three or so hours. Another bad habit of mine, though I can blame that one on the Mandalorian Wars."

Before Brianna could respond, Kai proceeded to turn back around and walk back over to the now boiling kettle. Grasping the small mug that he had placed next to the heating plate, the Exile poured the steaming content of the kettle into it. An unfamiliar scent suddenly found its way to Brianna, stimulating her senses despite being exhausted from the late hour and her training.

"Here," Kai said as he handed the cup off to the woman.

Staring at the mug's content, Brianna found that, despite the alluring scent, she was unimpressed with the drink's appearance, a translucent green. "What is this?"

"Rootgrass tea," Kai answered as he walked over to a nearby storage cabinet and pulled forth another mug with his right hand. "It was a favorite among the Jedi on Dantooine, especially among the Masters. I used to have a cup or two before I slept. It helped me relaxed during the most… unsettling times. Adare had given me some as a 'thank you' gift before we left, but this is the first time I've had a chance to drink any of it."

After pouring himself his own cupful, Kai did not hesitate to take a long sip of the steaming tea. "It's good to know that some things don't ever change."

Brianna had her reservations about something as simple as a drink being as enjoyable as the green-eyed Jedi made it out to be, but she chose to sample some before being judgmental. Hesitantly but surely did the strange looking liquid past by her lips. The exotic taste of the herb's spice upon her palette combined with the soothing heat of the water seemed to cause her to visibly relax almost instantly. Such a taste was so unfamiliar to her as she had been taught to desire only the necessary nutrients and to discard all of what her sisters had called "gluttonous consumption." And yet she did not think twice about having another taste.

"I'm glad you like it." Kai smiled warmly as he returned to the seat in front of the console. He made sure that he sat just right in order to make it look like his left arm came to rest casually upon the armrest. "With as much training as you have been doing since our return from Malachor, I'm surprised that you would need anything to help you sleep."

As Kai took another sip of his tea, he eyed the woman with an arched eyebrow as she stood very quietly, staring into her mug for several silent moments. "Or is there something else that is keeping you awake?"

Something that Brianna was trying to keep silent within herself stirred for but a moment, long enough for the Exile to sense its presence. But just as quickly as he had felt it did it disappear once again under the Echani's trained will of mind. Her years studying the means to hide her thoughts and feelings from those that could read and manipulate them still served her well. And though Kai was a little disheartened that she felt that she needed to keep something from him, he knew he was not one to comment on such a thing while hiding the fact that a good portion of his body currently needed the attention of a well-trained biomechanic and a hydrospanner.

Rather than leaving his invasive question hanging in the air, Kai quickly added.

"Perhaps wrapping Atton's mouth shut would cure us both of our insomnia."

A light laugh escaped from behind the Handmaiden's lips, accompanied by a humored smile. A rare response from the tempered warrior that the Exile silently wished she would partake of more. But then again, so much had happened to the Echani in the last couple of days that there was little for her to be humored about.

It was not an easy thing, having to leave the life you once knew behind, Kai understood that all to well, having been forced to do so more than once. The knowledge and pain of all he had lost for the sake of others, for the sake of war, still echoed ever faintly within the Exile's mind, as he knew it does within Visas, though only having become faint after having confronted her nameless tormenter. He imagined the same echo now rang freshly through the woman sitting before him, though she did well to hide it if such a thing did exist within her.

"Brianna."

The calling of her name was such an unfamiliar sound to the woman once called nothing else but Last of the Handmaidens. It had been one of the many things she had sacrificed of herself for the greater purpose, or so she had been told. She had tried to convince herself over the years under her Mistress that such a thing as one's name was truly insignificant. Her devotion to another, to the greater purpose, was all that should have mattered to her. All people die with time, and with their deaths their names also soon followed course. Only those things greater than one's self ever truly survived beyond the boundaries of time, and therefore such things were what one must devote themselves to, completely and utterly without reservation. Her sisters had constantly whispered these teachings in her ears. And yet for the Exile… no… for Kai Lugo to call her the name given to her by her mother meant more to her than she could ever tell him.

Yet even as she felt such fulfillness in knowing that she existed as something more than a simple number among the ranks, she also found herself riddled with a sense of guilt. Her sisters, those of whom she had grown up with, for whom she had stood beside through some of the brightest and darkest hours of her life with, called her betrayer. In mere moments, they threw aside all they had shared, discarded it like any other thing in their lives that they felt made them weak, and brought their weapons to bare against her, desiring her death as retribution because they could not accept what she had become.

And she had betrayed them, of this she could not question. Just as easily as they threw her aside did she do away with the shortcomings of their beliefs and devotions in order to fill the vacancy within herself that had tortured her relentlessly since the deaths of her mother and their father, a torment that they had not felt within the emptiness of their Mistress' teachings. And by such teachings she was a traitor. And because of such teachings, her sisters had desired her death.

A heavy silence fell between the two, Kai eying the woman with concern as she continued staring downward at her mug with eyelids heavy with something other than exhaustion. Still she guarded her feelings carefully, though they played across her features as she remained silent.

"…Brianna…" Kai called out for her again, carrying warmth within his voice that he hoped would reach the Echani as she sat there, looking so cold and alone. It occurred to the Exile then when he first saw that look upon her. It had been for but a moment as they passed by the bodies of her sisters while leaving the Telos Academy, just before they had left to fight the approaching Sith Lord and his army. And he understood its meaning to, as it was a look he knew he had carried upon his own face for many of the years after he had left the Republic, Revan, and Malachor V behind him.

It was pain without understanding.

For those like him who were forced to betray those they held dear for their beliefs, it was the pain of being abandoned by those for whom they betrayed. For all one understood they had to abandoned and betray, and for all one understood why those they had unintentionally hurt abandon them, it was hard to understand why it was still so painful.

"Brianna," the Exile called out as he poured himself another cup of Rootgrass tea, "I never told you how I first became a Jedi, did I?"

For those that walked its surface on a daily basis, the dense jungles of Dxun only seemed to grow thicker by the week. The exotic trees were so close together that they undoubtedly suffocated eachother in their thirst for soil and sun. Countless vines knotted upon eachother forming indecipherable webs for which unwary animals fell victim of, wrapping them in a living prison that those whose reason gave way to panic would call their deathbeds.

Simple and crude machetes were good enough answers to such a problem for the three Mandalorian warriors as they scouted into the darker recesses of the jungle.

"Damn vines!" Cyran, the leader of the trio, grunted as he hacked at the plants that restricted their progress. "Why the hell do these things never seem to stop growing?!"

"Why would there be a cache in such a forsaken part of the jungle anyway?" asked Klenn, the second Mandalorian, as he swung his own blade. "There's nothing here but these damnable plants."

"The radar system detected a cache in a clearing not far from here, so that's where we're going," responded Jiro, the last of the three as he came up behind the other two. Unlike those before him, he carried a blaster rifle in his arms, as the heavy pack of thorium charges on his back weighted him down too much to be clearing the path himself. Having brought a good quantity of the explosives hardly proved to be a luxury, but likely necessary to break through whatever wall or rock that blocked off the undoubtedly well-protected storage chamber. Assuming they could find it first.

The hunt for caches left over at the end of the Mandalorian Wars was one of the top priorities left behind by Mandalore before he had left, taking with him about half their number to fight in some battle far from the Onderon System. For much of the time since his departure, what warriors he had left behind spent their days looking to claim what they could of ten-year-old technology and supplies. With their satellite system only recently having been fixed, the hunt has since been far more successful than it was before, with several previously unfound caches now having been located and emptied of whatever they had contained.

The moist vapor of the jungle formed heavy fog that covered over the ground, making it difficult for the three scouts to determine their footing. More than once did they fall over upturned roots or oddly shaped terrain.

As slow as progress was though, the squad kept pushing through the entrapment of the dense growth surrounding them. Fortunately their armored suits provided complete relief from the heat and humidity of their surroundings; otherwise the jungle would have claimed each of them long ago. However such did little to alleviate the growing frustration of what seemed more and more like a waste of time and energy.

"We're Mandalorian warriors," Cyran remarked with a heavy grunt as he swung hard at more vines in their path. "Why are we being forced to scavenge a planet's surface? We should be raiding hyperspace routes for supplies, not scouring for them like sewer rats!"

"Means to an end, Cyran," Klenn responded. That was something he often told himself as well when he found himself doing tasks that he also felt did not suit someone that used to be part of planetary raids, swooping through the sky riding within a basilisk war droid. But then again living among the refugees on Nar Shadaa had shown him just how far someone could fall from a position of power, and how low such a person could become. If anything else, he held pride in knowing he had risen above the dangers of becoming such a beast. He now served the greater purpose of his people once again. And through that knowledge, he knew that he would once again claim the skies within a basilisk as the Mandalorians took back their place in the galaxy. The fact that it needed to start with small patrols searching dense jungles for the remains of a war was insignificant comparatively for the chance it would give for the Mandalorian race.

"Whatever happened to the fleets of basilisks that were stationed here," Klenn asked, suddenly remembering hearing about the armada that once existed on Dxun near the end of the war.

"Blown to scrap by terrain squads before they even had a chance to get off the ground," Jiro responded as he gave a hard yank on the heavy pack as it tried to slide down his back. "It was the first thing the Republic forces destroyed when they invaded the Onderon system."

"-Don't get your hopes up though," the heavy burdened warrior added before Klenn could make the statement Jiro knew he was going to. "Mandalore already sent several squads to scavenge what they could from the remains, and all they were able to do was reconstruct one barely operational unit."

"The one that Jedi and his group took to Onderon? What happened to it after?"

"They destroyed it, naturally. No need for Onderon to know that we're here just yet."

With a heavy melancholy falling upon his thoughts, Klenn continued forward in Cyran's wake. It was rather depressing to know that his skills as a droid mechanic proved to have little value in the absence of anything he could work on. Basilisk war droid maintenance had been his prime activity during the war when he was not busy using one to help in the infiltration of enemy forces. Searching for hidden caches seemed to be the only way anyone made use of him these days, though he did not let himself complain.

Cyran, though becoming tired of what he considered a futile search, was actually quite comfortable with the dense jungle. Even when he was a young recruit among the Mandalorian ranks, he found his place as a scout, searching the dark and dangerous for one thing or another. Even though he was well into his sixties, he still felt the invigoration of cutting his way through the land that tried to consume them.

Jiro was the pup among their numbers, as fresh and green as they come. Still in his early twenties, he often brought to bare the exhilaration and energy of his youth, commonly to the annoyance of the veterans he now stood beside. He had only played a small part in the Mandalorian Wars, stocking supplies and cleaning whatever he was told to, and had not seen true combat for what it was. After the war's end he traveled about for a little while until he found some of his brethren whom were willing to accept him. And eventually those he had joined gave allegiance to the new Mandalore, traveling back to the moon where the great campaign had first started. Whatever their purpose was truly meant little to the youth. In a world where the life of a Mandalorian was all he had ever known, it was not purpose that drew him towards them. It was the feeling of belonging. They were the only family he ever had, and all he desired to be a part of.

As the group traversed the wilds with a steady pace, the hour began to grow late with the sky turning to shades of orange and magenta. Though Klenn and Jiro were ready to call it a day, Cyran pushed onward without relief. At his age, effort without results was something he considered to be truly dishonorable. Though he hoped that their was a chance of success, he felt almost certain after having searched through the jungle since the break of dawn that this mission was already a failure. But he could accept failure. But to just give up without knowing whether they could have succeeded or not, that was something he would not accept.

They would find the clearing, and then they would find the cache if it was there. And if it was not, then at least they knew.

Time meant little to nothing for the hardened warrior, and it would be another three hours before Cyran finally came to a halt, his two followers slowly dragging behind him. Though it was not their place to question the actions and choices of the one whom led their little entourage, Klenn and Jiro were still greatly relieved that Cyran had finally chosen to stop. By then both of Klenn's arms were numb from overuse as he had to switch in which he carried the machete in order to continue hacking at the relentless vines. Jiro nearly fell over as exhaustion consumed even his youthful strength with the weight of another man on his back.

Are we finally calling it a night, Cyran," Klenn asked breath heavy breaths. Although originally they had planned to search only to the point where they would have enough time to return to the fortress, the hour was already far to late for that. Traveling through a jungle full of carnivores at night was a danger not even Cyran would be willing to take. Though building a campfire and sleeping among the dense trees was not a smart thing to do either, it was the lesser of two dangers right then.

"Cyran…" Klenn called again when he received no response. The leader of the group remained ever still as he stared off into the distance in front of him. "Sir, what are you looking at?"

The elder Mandalorian still did not respond, not even moving to show that he even heard someone talking to him. With his back to those who had followed him deep into the jungle, Cyran looked forward without movement, as if what he saw before him had grasped his attention in such a way that he dared not even to flinch.

Klenn looked over the man's shoulder to see what it was that had captivated their leader so. Yet, much to his bewilderment, he saw nothing more than what he had seen around him since their voyage into the deep wilderness began: trees, vines, and darkness. Was their something out there that Cyran could see that he could not?

"Hey Cyran," Klenn called out one last time, this time laying a hand on the man's shoulder. This time, Cyran did respond to his presence, his head suddenly swirling around completely to stare directly into the visor of the one whom disturbed him.

But to Klenn's horror, Cyran's body had not followed through with his head…

The sound of bones snapping under tremendous force echoed loudly through the forest, sending a dreadful chill down the backs of the two fear-struck Mandalorians that were there to hear it, their hearts skipping a beat as their leader fell dead to the ground.

Before either of them could think of how to respond, the sound of sadistic laughter found its way into their ears.

"Even with all that armor, how easily they fall…"

The animalistic sense of danger abound ran through the tired flesh of Klenn and Jiro, reinvigorating their bodies to the point of where they completely forgot about their exhaustion.

"What a waste, isn't it dear siblings? All that metal to cower behind for naught…"

Klenn grasped the machete, the only weapon he had, rapidly throwing his gaze around to locate the voice's source. Jiro did the same with his blaster rifle at the ready to shoot as soon as he laid his eyes upon a target. If he were thinking straight at the time, he would have unstrapped the pack of thorium explosives from his back to free himself from its restrictive weight. But right now he could not take his hands away from the blaster rifle.

They soon realized that their attempts to locate the one whom shadowed them were futile, as the dense plants served well to echo the voice.

"Who's there!" Klenn's voice rang out about them, continuing to look about frantically.

"Show yourself you coward!" Jiro quickly added.

"My… what a loud pair we have here. Mandalorians do like the sound of their own voices…"

"That was one of those Jedi tricks, wasn't it," Klenn stated, having seen variations of the same type of power, though he had never seen anyone killed so directly with it before. "You're a damn Jedi, aren't you!"

"Jedi?" the owner of the voice almost seemed surprised by the word. "You think I'm a member of that group of self-righteous arrogant fools who let you and wretched race nearly conquer the galaxy? He is a funny one, isn't he brothers and sisters? Sorry, but no. I am no Jedi. I like killing Mandalorians…"

The glee in the stranger's voice as he made that last statement was unmistakable. Klenn and Jiro continued turning around in circles, their eyes frantically scanning the brush for any signs of life. Jiro's hands visibly shook as he struggled to maintain a steady grip on the rifle. He had never seen combat before, and this was not how he had imagined he would first experience it, like mouse cornered by a snake.

Klenn happened only to glance at the youth for a moment and easily made out how unnerved their hidden stalker's words had made him. "Remain steady, Jiro!"

The young Mandalorian looked over to his fellow warrior at the call of his name.

"Remember Cyran, Jiro! Remember Mandalore! Remember the strength and honor you have in wearing that armor!"

"Honor? Ha!" the voice seemed overly amused by Klenn's attempt to harden the younger one. "That word is bile in your throat, Mandalorian dog! Was it this Mandalorian honor you craved when you eradicated the defenseless inhabitants of Cathar? Or perhaps when you set the Serraco plains ablaze and burned to death nearly seven million inhabitants living on that planet? You really are a funny one…"

Some of the fire returned to Jiro then as he reflected upon Klenn's words of support. He remembered Cyran, the man who showed him how to survive in the harsh recesses of the jungle, teaching him wilderness techniques and survival training. He remembered Mandalore, a man that took great pride in his people and who desired to give part of the galaxy back to them. Jiro found his pride again, and it burst from his lungs. "An outsider could never understand what it means to be a Mandalorian Warrior!!"

The young boy's words echoed louder than any said before them in the recesses of that jungle. And after they faded, a strange silence took their place, as if they had somehow defeated the unseen stalker.

Unfortunately for the pair of stranded warriors, it soon became that the owner of the voice had not left them to their own.

"Mmm… yes… you're right, siblings. That word does not suit them in the least…"

Could there possibly be others out there? Klenn and Jiro could not tell, but by the way this person seemed to be speaking to others, they could only assume. And though Jiro tried to control it, he could feel the shakes returning to his hands.

"The word 'warrior' does not really describe what a Mandalorian really is… I think 'drug addicts' is far more suitable, don't you? People who are so hooked on the buzz of war and slaughter that they're willing to decimate whole planets to get high on what they call honor! And after a little while, that buzz tends to wear off, and they are driven by that painful lust for more to kill even more people! I wonder… how should we go about helping such lost individuals? … What's that, brother? Cut their eyes out so they can't track more innocent people down? Sounds good to me!"

"What the-!" Klenn's voice came short as he found his hands moving beyond his control, turning the machete around so that it was pointing directly at his face. He tried to scream out to Jiro for help, who was busy continuing his futile search among the surrounding plants for the hidden speaker, but found an unseen force squeezing at his vocal cords, muting him completely.

"You're name is Jiro, yes?" the voice continued, causing the shakes to return completely within Jiro's hands at the mention of his name. "Tell me, young one, do you know what the weakest point on a standard suit of Mandalorian armor is? Believe it or not, it is not the joint extensions, as most people believe. Rather, it is those little visor slits on the helmet, easily penetrated by any blaster bolt or lightsaber. Or, in the case of your good friend, Klenn-"

In hearing Klenn's name, Jiro quickly turned to face his companion, a deep shock of fear shooting through his as he found the man standing with his blade at the ready to stab while held in the wrong direction.

"- a simple blade is all that is needed," the voice finished.

Jiro could not move in time, could not even yell out, before Klenn's arms drove the blade home with all the strength he could muster.

Indeed, the visor plating shattered so effortlessly…

The last of Jiro's strength of will fell away as quickly as Klenn's now very dead body fell to the ground. All thoughts of what it meant to be a Mandalorian, to know courage in times of trouble, melted away from his mind. And all that was left was the irrational sense of a frightened animal.

And like a scared beast, Jiro ran.

He did not think of where he was or where he should run. He just ran, dropping the blaster rifle without a thought.

If he had at least stayed upon the cleared path that the three of them had made while on their journey through the jungle, he might have had chance to escape. But not even that thought occurred to him. He simply tried to run into the wild, the heavy pack still upon his back and dragging him down with every step.

He did not get far though. Barely registering the wilderness around him, the young Mandalorian smashed his right shoulder into an unyielding tree trunk, sending him tumbling out of control to the left, straight into a massive web of vines. The ever-growing plants of the jungle were as merciless as any predator, and they quickly took hold of the frightened prey as he fell into them. Jiro tried to break himself free, but even his strength soon began to fail him as the vines wrapped more and more around him with every move he made, their cement-like sap grabbing at him without relief.

It was less than five minutes before Jiro found himself completely caught within the jungle's web. He struggled to free himself but found his attempts to be futile, his arms and legs wrapped in positions where he could not hope to free them. His body hung as if he was falling down face forward, but was being suspended before he fell.

He remained in that position for several moments, as darkness and silence were all he knew. But that silence was soon broken by the most horrid sound he could have heard then. The sound of the footsteps of someone slowly approaching him from behind.

He tried once against to free himself, violently shaking in hope to loosen the grip of at least a few vines, but found that the cursed plants would not let go of their prize. He kept trying until the footsteps stopped right behind him. He could not turn to face the one that had approached him as his helmet was also too wrapped up in the vines to even turn his head. But he knew that it was him.

Almost unbearably did the unseen man stand behind Jiro, torturing the young man with his enigmatic presence.

Reaching down with a gloved hand, the cloaked figure opened one of the side pockets of satchel on Jiro's back and pulled out its contents.

"Hmm… interesting…" that same cold voice from before echoed through Jiro's ears. "The detonators they use for blowing up dirt and rocks has a ten-second delay. Isn't that funny, brothers and sisters?"

"Who…are you," Jiro manage to ask in a voice that shook as badly as his hands had.

Coming in closer, the hooded figure leaned in towards Jiro, bringing his face up next to the right side of the helmet.

And like a whisp of wind, he whispered coldly "That is approximately ten seconds more than your minefields gave my siblings ten years ago… "

Young Jiro's heart nearly froze as recognition of what such meant dawned upon him. "By Mandalore… you are…"

"I'll be the more honorable person, young Mandalorian."

Though it was beyond Jiro's sight, he could feel the enigmatic figure open to top of the pack.

And then, he heard a click…

"I'll give you the whole ten seconds…"

With those words, the hooded figure turned and walked away, leaving Jiro to his own.

Beep…beep…beep…

"No… No! Don't! Don't do it!! Don't do this!!!"

Beep…beep…beep…

Jiro struggled savagely with the vines as he cried his pleads.

"Don't do this!!!"

Beep…beep…beep…

"No!!!"

…BEEP


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The Ebon Hawk pierced through the Dxun sky as it flew downwards, cutting a path out of the many clouds that dotted the atmosphere. With the grace of a bird did it fly through the air, almost appearing as if the wind currents alone kept it adrift. And just like a bird did it flawlessly swoop towards the Mandalorian base, coming to a smooth halt over the southern training grounds where several Mandalorians scattered as the worn and beaten freighter ship came to a soft landing on the yielding grass.

Unsure as to what the sudden appearance of a ship few among their number recognized, many Mandalorians ran to grab their blasters, returning to the sight with their weapons at the ready.

"Well, don't they look happy to see us," Atton joked as he rested his head upon his arms as they sat upon the top of the console. As he spotted the commotion outside from the safety of the cockpit, the sly pilot smiled cruelly to himself. It would have been so easy to activate the ship's automated gun turret and rid the world of the lot of them. After all, who would complain about the deaths of Mandalorians? It was not as if anyone wanted them around, save those whom might benefit from hiring some muscle.

"You just parked on their back lawn, fly boy," Mira retorted as she slouched within the passenger seat.

Atton shrugged as if it wouldn't have mattered to him. "It's no reason for back-world hospitality…"

Atton then looked back over his shoulder, speaking loudly with as if he were truly irritated. "Hey Mandalore! Tell your kids to put their toys away already!"

"Arms down!" A deep voice radiated through the Mandalorian numbers surrounding the intrusive freighter. As those who carried blasters lowered their weapons, a path cleared among the ranks as Kelborn walked straight past them to stand in front of the Ebon Hawk. Even though he was in the same blue Mandalorian armor as many other among the crowd were, everyone of the lower ranking could easily recognize the second-in-command as he held himself with a control and surety of a man who has seen battle upon battle. It confused many though that the man was now seen often with a tool satchel resting on his back, going around the ruined fortress and repairing whatever he could when he was not busy barking orders. He often took on tasks that many expected him to force others to do. Still, no one questioned Kelborn's right to the position of second-in-command, even when he was on his back working under a scout's swoop bike.

The veteran scanned over the ship through his visor, his hands placed firmly at his hips, seemingly amazed that she was even space worthy in her current condition. "Hit a few meteors along the way, have we?"

As the loading ramp began to descend, the deep screech of metal on metal pulsated through the camp, causing more than a few Mandalorians to grit their teeth at the horrible sound. All ears were relieved when the edge of the ramp finally reached the ground.

The first to appear from the confines of the ship was a figure whose presence among the Mandalorians demanded that they stand at attention with their weapons placed at their sides and the helmets facing forward. Only Kelborn and the few other Mandalorian veterans took to standing at ease with their arms loosely crossed behind their backs. Such ceremony was mostly for giving the newer, younger recruits a sense of discipline. Those of experience had no use for ceremony though, and Mandalore did not bother them with such, though he kept a keen eye on the greens he passed to make sue that they knew their current place.

Kelborn greeted their leader respectively. "Good to have you back, Mandalore. I assume Malachor is responsible for this mess that you brought back with you."

"Ten years and still as cold and unforgiving as when we did battle above its skies," Canderous responded, his voice hinting at the nostalgia of his memories, though that quickly changed as he pulled his eyes back from staring far off to look directly at his second-in-command. "Have the ship patched up and ready to go within a week. She's going to need to be in top shape for what's ahead."

"Planning on leaving us again, are you Mandalore," Kelborn asked curiously. Though he knew it was not his place to question the decisions of their leader, the commander had found his absence to make things more… difficult, especially among the new recruits who were more prone to question the leadership of the new Mandalore that took his absence at his leisure.

For a long moment, Canderous did not respond, as if Kelborn's question had demanded an answer he did not like. But he did eventually give a response, though his voice sounded strangely disheartened by his answer. "No… I can not go where he is…"

"Mandalore?" Kelborn was unable to make out what their leader had mumbled under his breath.

Canderous once again pulled his thoughts from far away and looked straight at Kelborn. "Will you be able to get everything squared away with the ship within a week?"

Kelborn stood up straight at attention when he answered. "For you, Mandalore, it'll be done in three days."

"Good, I'll hold you to that."

At that moment, Kai appeared from the loading ramp with Bao-Dur, Brianna, and HK-47 in close proximity behind him. It made the group feel rather awkward to be the center of attention for several well-armed Mandalorians. The Exile, Echani, and Zabrak did well to avoid the looks and stares that several were throwing them behind their visors, as outsiders were not really common or welcomed within the camp. Even though Kai received less of such, likely because he had proven himself among their numbers by partaking of their battle circle, still many gave him just as much hospitality as they did the rest of his friends.

HK, on the other hand, decided to respond to the dangerous looks in a totally different fashion, more suited to his unique personality programming, which included lifting his blaster and randomly pointing it at the fifty or so Mandalorians that surrounded them completely. "Query: You want some of this? How bout you? Huh, huh! Want to try some of this, meatbag!"

Was he simply jesting, or did HK actually intend to fire upon those who both outnumbered and outgunned their own? It was rather frustrating for his most recent master to always be unsure of the assassin droid's intent.

Kai let out a heavy sigh, having found the droid to be the source of many headaches since his reactivation. "HK, give it a rest. We're not here to kill them."

Lowering his blaster rather begrudgingly, the rusted machine complied with its owner's wishes.

"Statement: Oh please, Master," the assassin droid pleaded in a sorrowful voice, "I haven't had the chance to kill me a meatbag for so long. The absence of their screams resonating within my audio receptors leaves a painful void in my circuits. Can't you grant your loyal droid this one simple luxury?"

"I'm afraid not right now, 47," Kai responded as he apologetically shook his head. "Maybe later we'll find you some cannoks for you to blast."

Rather than taking the proposition joyfully, HK lowered his head unit and let the upper part of his torso sag forward, as if he were a human suddenly struck by melancholy. "Statement: Oh, woe is me, for a highly advance assassin droid to be reduced to wasting his protocols on dumb beasts… oh, woe is me…"

Kai abruptly turned his attention back to the two conversing Mandalorians, knowing that placing any more attention upon the droid would only lead to another headache in the long line of headaches.

Though some among the number took HK's antics in all seriousness, raising their weapons as the nozzle of 47's blaster greeted them, Mandalore ignored the droids threats to his people, knowing the machine well enough to know it would not act outside its Master's command. Looking upon the crowd of Mandalorian warriors, Canderous suddenly yelled out as if disgusted by the sight. "What the hell is this?! A social event!? Get back to your duties!"

Mandalore's voice and command echoed rapidly among the warriors, and within the compass of about a minute, every Mandalorian that had been standing around the group and their ship returned to the tasks they had been assigned around the camp.

"Idiots…" Mandalore muttered under his breath, to which only Kelborn could hear.

Finding comfort in no longer being the center of attention, Kai and those who followed him continued to walk towards the leader of the Mandalorians as he conversed with his second-in-command.

Hearing the group approaching, Mandalore looked over to the Exile as he came in close proximity. "I suppose you'll be wanting to get to Izziz as soon as possible."

"Yes, the sooner the matter is dealt with, the better," Kai responded, forcefully having to withhold himself from grabbing at his left arm.

"Izziz?" Brianna interjected, bringing the attention of the two conversing men upon her, though she looked only upon the Exile. "You made no mention of planning to travel to Onderon."

Staring back at the Echani warrior, Lugo realized that he should have expected that Brianna would question his intent in what he had not made her privilege to. Before he could give an answer though, he found that Brianna was already searching for it in a more invasive way.

Though Kai knew she was doing it unintentionally, he could suddenly feel the white-mane woman's thoughts touching upon his through the Force, quietly and anonymously searching for an answer as to why he had chosen not to notify her of his intent. Kai smiled warmly at the woman, impressed with how easily she managed such a feat. It was something he had only recently exposed her to, having not too long ago become aware of the ability to listen to the thoughts of others himself. It was also likely that her ease in the use of such a skill upon him was because he had used his own mind in training her, asking her questions about himself and forcing her to search for the answer.

He knew he very well could have simply started counting Pazaak cards to hide his thoughts, as Atton had shown him, but to do such would have been placing a wall between himself and Brianna, and he did not want to do that to her. Rather, with the sensation of a gentle hand leading the way, the Exile led Brianna out of his mind. It was only then that the woman became aware of what she had been doing, her icy-blue eyes flashing with realization.

" Exile, I… I didn't mean to…" the Echani woman seemed at a lost of words, her gaze falling downwards, shamed that she had used, even unintentionally, what the Exile had taught her in such a disrespectful manner.

Kai's smile did not relent. "It's alright, Brianna. I apologize for not telling you earlier, but my reasons for needing to go to Izziz… are not issues I desired to concern you with."

It was true enough. Still, even as Brianna nodded her head in acceptance of his choice, he found himself having to restrain from grabbing his arm. The lack of sensation coming from his limb created an almost nauseating numbness within his mind that bordered on being a painful ache that would appear unpredictably. Still he refrained from expressing such while Brianna was in his presence.

Though he knew his reasons for such were sound, feelings of guilt for having chosen to hide the injury from the Echani, one he had come to cherish deeply, did fall upon Lugo. Knowing her as well as he did, Kai honestly believed that Brianna, in fact every one of his companions, would not think less of him because of some old war wound, or rather the reason he had obtained it. Bao-Dur had not and, more surprisingly, Kai believed that Mandalore did not think less of him either. But it never been for the sake of their views of him that Lugo chose to hide it, but his own. Like Malachor, it was something of his past that he held no pride in, and to make all those who followed him aware of it would only seem to state otherwise. Looking back for a moment upon the Iridonian, Kai imagined that Bao-Dur felt the same way about his own injury, and that he would have taken measures to hide his own arm if he could have.

Getting his own arm fixed was currently the Exile's top concern then though, the matter of whether or not he should inform his comrades about his… condition being far more distant.

"How long before I will be able to depart," Kai asked as he turned back around to face Mandalore, who had taken up another discussion with his second-in-command.

"Preliminary checks and refueling of my private shuttle will only take in the range of an hour," Mandalore responded after pulling his attention away from Kelborn, "But before that, Jedi, there is an situation here that I'm pretty sure has to do with you."

"Me?" Kai responded with a calm yet confused expression. How could any issue within the Mandalorian base be related to him? The only thing he could imagine it being was something related to him taking part within the battle circle, and that one particular Mandalorian whom he had rejected the request of a death match with. Beyond that, nothing else in particular came to him. "What is this about?"

It was Kelborn who answered him. "For the last two days, we've been keeping a woman captive on the base. We detected her ship landing not too far from where yours originally did, and she surrendered to our guards without resisting. It was almost as if she expected to find us here."

Kai still did not see how such could be related to him. "Who is she?"

"We don't know. She refused to give us her name or the reason she came here."

"Have you interrogated her," Mandalore interjected.

Kelborn turned his attention sharply upon his leader. "No Mandalore, we wanted to wait until you returned before we did anything with her. So far she's simply stayed within the confines of the make-do cell we've kept her in. She's also somehow managed to avoid answering anything we've tried asking her."

Lugo remained silent for a moment, contemplating Kelborn's words in silent speculation.

Without warning, HK suddenly walked up beside the Exile, his movements speaking of frantic anticipation. "Statement: Ooh, master! Please give me the pleasure of interrogating the meatbag myself! I promise that I'll extract any and every answer you desire, provided I am able to use some of my more intense methods that will likely scar, mute, and blind the subject for the rest of her life, assuming that we let her live at all!"

The anticipation within 47's voice as he made that last statement made it clear that he was hoping otherwise.

Kai, his eyes stared slightly downwards as he pondered a few possibilities, raising his right hand and calmly waving the droid off without looking at him. "Maybe later, HK."

The sound of a heavy sigh came from HK as his chassis drooped forward, the well-designed assassin then turning back around and walking away from his unappreciative Master.

"We were able to search her vessel once we found it in the wilderness," Kelborn continue, then reaching over his back into his satchel. What he pulled out of his pack, he immediately handed off the Exile, who stared at it with an empty expression that did not match the emotions going through his mind as he held the item firmly within his right hand. "That was all we found in it…"

Kai had immediately recognized the item the moment he saw it, but it was not until he was grasping it in his hand that he also felt the deep and piercing echo that resonated from it. It was something he had not felt in almost ten years.

Images of entire Mandalorian squads being cut down found their way into Lugo's eyes. The terror that had plagued the hearts of grown men just before they lost their lives now plagued the Exile's own. And above all else, a steady and strong will that pushed through all grief and hate now burned once again within the former General's veins.

"Do you recognize it," Mandalore asked, being unable to read the emotion on Kai's face as he stared blankly in the direction of that which he now held.

Though there was little reason for doubt in his mind, Kai knew he had to do one thing to be absolutely sure. Turning the cylinder-shaped body of the device over with only one hand, the former General pressed down hard on the small red button near the center, just as he had countless times before, and like clockwork, the weapon activated flawlessly.

From the ends of the double-bladed lightsaber, two powerful beams of light bursted forth. Yet what set this particular lightsaber apart from the rest of its kind, what made everyone within its presence stare with fascination in their eyes, was the sheer color of the beams. To see a lightsaber that's beams glowed with a mesmerizing silver was a rare thing indeed.

Bao-Dur, not taking his eyes away from the beams, slowly walked up behind Brianna, who gazed forward with just as much focus. The iridonian softly whispered next to her ear. "Is that what I think it is?"

The Echani did not give a response however, did not even move to suggest that she heard the Iridonian's words at all. She could not pull herself away from what she gazed upon, mostly not because of what it was she was looking at, but what it meant. If it indeed was the weapon she believed it to be, the one she had seen more times than she could remember, then that meant…

With a very soft push of his thumb, Lugo deactivated the weapon, closing his eyes as the beams of light dissipated. It was far more nostalgic than the former General had expected, or desired. And to be holding that lightsaber again, his former lightsaber again, felt right for all the wrong reasons. Over the last couple of months, since its construction, Kai had come to view the lightsaber Bao-Dur had helped him construct, the doubled-blades lightsaber with the viridian blades, as his lightsaber. It had taken him longer than he had anticipated, but with the help of his newly constructed weapon, Kai had regained much of his former strength that he had lost during his banishment.

Atton had once joked of believing that a Jedi was supposed to be married to his lightsaber. While it had been completely in jest, there had been more truth within the pilot's words than he had realized. Like many other combat veterans that he had met during the war, Kai had come to rely upon his weapon much as he would a friend or even his own hands. It had been almost an extension of himself through some of the worst points of his life, defending him and fighting for him through hell and back. He had come to master it as he had himself, knowing how to manipulate the weapon's motions entirely to create the desired affect.

And when he had been forced to give it up, Lugo had let his fury for such be known by ramming it into the center stone of the conference hall, feeling as though he was being forced to give up a part of himself.

Indeed, it was far too nostalgic to Kai Lugo's liking. Before opening his eyes again, the former Jedi slipped the weapon into one of the pockets of his robe, not wanting to deal with it at the moment, as he knew that a far more important matter had just fallen into his lap. "May I see her?"

"Figured you might want to after seeing that," Kelborn responded, than turning around to point at one of the stone buildings within the base. "She's in that one there. Go down the building's center hall and you'll find a guard standing in front of her door. He'll let you in."

Kai nodded his appreciation and began to walk in the direction the Mandalorian had pointed him towards. But no sooner had he gotten a few steps before another thought stopped in flat.

Turning partly back around, the Exile looked directly upon the Brianna. He silently berated himself for not thinking about her feelings in the matter before he had started off to meet their… unexpected visitor.

It was quite evident that the Echani had no intention of following him as she slightly hung her head, her eyes bearing downwards with a mixture of pain, anger, and sadness reflecting within them.

Looking upon her now, Kai could only imagine the emotions she was feeling right then. He had tried to console Brianna on her feelings of grief and betrayal in the matter of her sisters, being partly successful in helping her come to terms with it. But this was another matter entirely.

Without a word, Kai turned back around and immediately walked back up to the woman, whom did not look up upon him until she felt his hand calmly resting upon her shoulder. Both Kai's eyes and facial expression were calm with a compassion Brianna had come to admire in the man. And yet his words were firm with sincerity.

"You do not have to see her if you don't want to, Brianna," the Exile spoke softly as so only the Echani could hear. "Whatever pain you may feel, you do not owe it to her."

Brianna stared back at Kai for a moment. Slowly did the insecurity and troubled feelings melt away from her eyes, replaced with the usual strong sense of self that the woman commonly displayed. And just as softly as Kai's voice had been did she respond.

"I know…"

Giving her one last comforting smile before he stepped away, Kai then looked upon the other two whom had come with him.

"Bao-Dur, you think you can possibly help them out with the ship repairs and maybe get them done within two days?"

The Iridonian chuckled whole-heartedly at the request. "You think pretty highly of me, don't you General?"

Kai shrugged his shoulders as if he did not have such an opinion. "I didn't say whether I think you can. I asked whether you think you can."

The technician responded with a small laugh in the back of his throat and shook his head. "I'll see what I can do."

"Get Atton and Mira to help you. Hell knows they're not going to be doing anything while the ships just sitting here," Lugo added before then turning to look upon HK, whom now stood off to the side, seemingly inattentive as his head moving back and forth in wide jerks.

"This humidity's probably not good for you circuits, 47," Kai noted. "You might want to stay in the ship until we're prepared to leave."

HK's head suddenly stopped jerking as his photoreceptors stared off within the direction of his master. "Statement: Oh yes, Master. Because it makes so much more sense to use me by making me stand within some dark corner of the ship than to have me burning holes through meatbags."

With that last sarcastic remark, HK began to head back to the ship in what would have been described as aggressive strides. Kai sighed heavily as he felt that headache he had avoided earlier now finding its way back to him.

"I'll see what aid I can lend as well to the Iridonian," Brianna stated, then turning on her heal and proceeding back to the ship without another word. But as the Exile watched her walk away, he began to wonder about the sincerity behind her calm demeanor. There was no question within Kai's mind that the Echani did possess a strong strength of will, one that could overcome almost any situation life threw at her, yet he feared that such was not the case with Brianna's present display of self control. Sometimes it was hard to tell whether internal conflict was either conquered, or simply set aside and avoided. Perhaps Kai was simply being too pessimistic, but for some reason he suspected the latter more accurately describes Brianna's reaction to the arrival of their… unexpected visitor.

Taking in a relaxing breath, Lugo accepted that he could not address such suspicions as of yet, and not in the absence of the woman's presence.

"This will not take long," Kai said as he eyed the pair of Mandalorians while passing them by. Indeed, Kai could think of little he felt he needed to say to the woman, more questions than anything. Yet more concerning to him than what it was that he desired, it was her intent that bewildered the former Jedi.

As Kai walked through the entrance to the complex, Kelborn and Mandalore watched as he left their sight.

"Are you sure we can trust him, Mandalore," Kelborn asked as he stared off towards where Kai had left to. In this Mandalorian's eyes, the difference between a Jedi and a Sith was a vibroblade's edge, ambition being the line that distinguished either side. Jedi had become Sith; Sith had become Jedi. Both were known to lie and deceive and kill to better their own situations; the term justifiable seemingly as bendable as their codes. So whether the man was Jedi or Sith was irrelevant to Kelborn. He was one among them, and Kelborn would not trust either or anything in between.

Canderous smirked to himself beneath the helmet, having thought upon the question himself more than a few times during the whole time he had been within Kai's company. "Perhaps. I wouldn't put it past him to be deceitful at times, but he has been nothing but loyal to those he fights beside, and I have fought beside him."

It occurred to Mandalore as he said this that he had not been honest himself to those whom now called him leader, specifically about the Jedi he somehow came to travel with. He had only passively noticed it before, but while within the confines of the Mandalorian base, no one among the Ebon Hawk's crew referred to Kai Lugo by name; a name that Canderous himself had come to know during the Mandalorian Wars as belonging to a man that the Mandalorians admired, feared, and hated. After all, General Lugo, the leader of the Republic Forces whose fame was nearly on par with both Malak and Revan, was a well-despised man among the Mandalorians who loss so much at his hands.

If Malak had been considered the right hand of Revan, iron-willed, ruthless, driven by a cold fury, then Kai Lugo would undoubtedly have been considered Revan's left. And though the raw ferocity of Malak had forever earned him a place with the chronicles of Mandalorian history, it was simple numbers that made the Exile the one that was considered the true decimator of the race. Only Revan held a place above either of them based on his ability, figuratively speaking, to be ambidextrous.

Despite how this one man's action may have brought about the eventual extinction of the Mandalorian race, Canderous, with his unbending views on the nature of war and honor, could not bring himself to condemn the Exile for his actions anymore than he could condemn himself for all the lives he had taken. However if any of his men ever learned the truth of the one they referred to as Jedi, even a command from Mandalore would not likely save Kai Lugo from the wrath of vengeful Mandalorians.

Canderous would keep his secret. He knew he owed the Exile that much.

"Have my shuttle ready for whenever he is prepared to head out."

"Yes, Mandalore," Kelborn responded to the leader that he did trust. "But before that, sir, there is… another matter that requires your attention. About the scouting party we sent to find the cache hidden far to the East of here."

Mandalore turned to look upon his second-in-command, his instinct about a matter concerning scouting parties telling him it was not good news.

"What about them?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

She sat so motionless upon the bed, her head leaning against the wall as she eyes took in the light and sights that came in through the small slit in the stone that served as a window. Ever so often a figure would pass by the window, always it being one of the many Mandalorians suited in their massive armor, shading out the beams of light that illuminated the almost barren room.

It had surprised her how well the Mandalorians were treating her as their prisoner. For the last two days she had been provided three full meals on each day, was not subjected to any form of intense interrogation beyond one particular Mandalorian named Kelborn coming to her once to ask her a few questions, most of which she had avoided answering with basic use of her Mind Trick ability, and was able to walk around the base while guarded a few times.

From the tales she had heard from what few prisoners of war the Mandalorians had not exterminated, this was far from the treatment she had expected. But then again, this was not a time of war, and she was not their enemy, though she would resent having any sort of relation with Mandalorians beyond that.

For most of the day, she found herself sitting alone within this small room, with but her thoughts and meditation to pass the time. Yet right then she asked herself a question she had asked herself several times before since her arrival to Dxun.

Why was she here?

What did she really hope to gain by having come to Dxun? A chance encounter? The possibility of running into the one she was searching for based on nothing more than a crude hunch?

As she thought about it, she realized that it was all the reason she needed. After all, what else did she have? The Jedi Order was no more. Even if it did still exist, she could no longer count herself as one among them. She could no longer believe in the Jedi after the Mandalorian Wars, though she had refused to accept this until the truth had been painfully placed right in front of her eyes. The galaxy had been screaming around them and they had deafened themselves to it. So afraid had they been of what they were hearing that they hid within the corners of the galaxy where it was hard to hear anything at all. They were afraid of what it would mean to see life without the Force, as they were bound to it as if it were the blood within their veins.

She had been so afraid to hear it that she surrounded herself with those who were deaf to such things. And in the end, without even realizing it, she became that which she despised the most in order to overpower the scream, just as all those Sith born of Malachor V had done over ten years ago.

Yet now more than ever did she feel lost, without place or purpose in a galaxy that was changing beyond her control, like a bird stranded within the storm. What did she have left the rest upon, to place her faith, her beliefs, and her strength of will?

"Where do I belong," she asked herself in a whisper of her soft and delicate voice. She had asked herself that question more than a million times since she was a child. And even now she still did not have an answer.

The sound of someone lightly knocking upon the chamber door stirred her from her thoughts. Looking over to the portal, surprise became evident upon her face, mainly because no one had been courteous enough to knock before. Why would they? After all, she was a prisoner, not a guest.

At first, she chose to ignore it, figuring it to be the guard standing outside her room playing with her. He had not done so before, but still she was pessimistic about it, not putting such childish cruelties beneath a Mandalorian.

"Enter," she called out, if for no other reason than to confirm her suspicion, as she continued to look out the window.

If perhaps she had not been so sure of her own presumptions, she would not have been as caught off guard as she was when the door slid open, revealing the individual on the other side. And when she turned to stare upon the one whom now stood before her, she could not hide the look of shock upon her face. She had held onto the most minute of hopes that she would meet this individual once again, having traveled to this moon only for the sake of a minuscule chance.

And now, against all odds, it seems her perseverance had given her what she sought.

But what was she to do now?

Though Kai's expression did not match her own, he imagined the same confusion that he felt within himself was also consuming her as well. He truthfully had not expected to see her again after they had parted ways at the Telos Academy. So much pain and anger had arisen between them that Lugo had thought she would have taken measures to avoid his presence entirely. What she would have done to achieve such, Kai had not pondered severely, but this was not what he had expected.

Yet as Atris rose from sitting upon the bed, the only furnishing within a room too small to use for much else, Kai placed such thoughts aside as he looked upon her more clearly.

Much of the same tenseness that Kai had noticed upon her since they were but young hopefuls at the academy on Coruscant still resided within her features. And yet the anger that had accompanied it more recently seemed to have diminished entirely, replaced not with warmness, but almost a quiet sadness. In such eyes, Kai saw much of himself, and he did not like it.

As Atris approached him, Kai noted that she no longer wore the elegant white robes that he, if not everyone, were accustomed to seeing her wearing, marking her as the Historian that she was. Rather she now wore very simple robes of grays and blues that seemed to accent her light blue eyes. Being that she was on a moon covered by humid jungle, such wear was far more practical. And yet she chose to now wear down her long white hair, which hinted at her Echani ancestry, something she had once long ago indulged in sharing with the Exile.

Now that they were standing but a few feet away from each other, Atris became aware of her loss of words. She had been so uncertain of whether she would even have the chance to meet him again that she apparently had forgotten her reasons for wanting to. Before she had the chance to think of the original reason, Kai turned to the guard standing outside the door.

"Mind if I take her off your hands for a little bit?"

Turning to look at the woman and then back at the Jedi, the Mandalorian shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Don't see why not. Just don't take her off the base. We don't need her telling the wrong people that we're here."

"Don't worry," Kai responded, looking back at Atris' soft blue eyes and seeing the intent that lied within them. "She's not here to cause trouble for you. You can tell Mandalore that I vouch for her."

Even before Kai had finished speaking, the Mandalorian began to walk away, making it obvious that the man cared little about the matter, and likely was just tired of having to stand in front of a closed door all day.

"Or you can walk away like you couldn't care less about any of this," Lugo muttered under his breath to himself. Still, he felt he could understand the warrior's desire to get away from having to suffer the woman. From his earliest recollections of her, Atris had never been… easy to tend to.

Breathing out a light sigh, Kai looked back upon the Historian, whom had chosen to remain silent this whole time, and whom now diverted her eyes away from him as she clearly drifted within her own thoughts.

"Please come with me," Lugo said, bringing Atris' attention back upon him. "This room does not suit you and is unfit to converse in."

With that, the Exile began to walk back down the hall to the exit.

Atris, for a long moment, stood where she was, her thoughts and feelings building upon her after finally meeting up with the one she had searched for. And yet the moment had been nothing as she had expected. The last two times she had been within his presence, she had felt a flurry of emotions coursing through her. Anger, revulsion, self-righteousness, pain, anguish, sorrow, they had all swirled within her heart their last two encounters. But this time had been so much different, and rather than finding anything tangible to grasp, the Historian found only uncertainty. As such, she reached down within herself and grasped upon the only strength she had left, perseverance. And with that alone in her clutches, she followed in the Exile's wake.

Rather than leading Atris outside, Kai stepped into another one of the rooms of the compound, this one containing nothing along the lines of furnishings, but at least being illuminated by a massive window from which the light flooded through, blanketing the pair as they entered.

Atris stopped short at the doorway as Kai walked up to the window, staring out at the sky and the clouds that hung above. Perhaps it was blue hue of the atmosphere painted with massive clouds, but the Exile immediately found himself thinking about the academy on Dantooine, and the years he spent their, learning under the tutelage of Masters. When Kai had first arrived on that planet with Atris, she had already been given the title of knight due to her scholarly ability. Even though they were less than two years apart in age, Atris had been with the Order since she was a little girl, learning their ways and teachings with an enthusiasm for their recognition and placement among their ranks that Kai did not partake of. She had devoted herself to the cause utterly and entirely without reservation.

But now the Order was dead. Wiped away by the results of their greatest shortcoming, arrogance. When the screams of Malachor V finally reached their ears, they turned away from it as they had turned away from Kai when he stood before them. And when those consumed by the dead planet came for them, they ran to the corners of the galaxy, hiding among the lost and the dead. Atris had condemned the Order for such, claiming that only she could produce the true means for training one to avoid falling to the Dark Side. That only she knew what was needed to confront such evil. Yet, in the end, she was consumed as well by the echo, and it destroyed her as it had Sion and Visas' master.

Had he really saved her on Telos, the Exile wondered as he turned around to look upon the Historian. The echo had ripped her life, everything she had worked to accomplish, away from her. And for what part he had played to cause such to happen, Kai had apologized for with the utmost sincerity. But where did that leave the crippled woman? What will was it that possessed her to seek him out once again?

"You've come a long way to find me, Atris," Lugo remarked as he leaned back against the window. "I'm curious as to how you became aware of this place though. T3 had scanned the ship from port to starboard not long after we first left the Telos Academy, so you could not have placed a tracer within it…"

The Exile left his words hanging in the air, already having an idea as to how the former Master learned of the hidden base, but desiring her to explain it herself.

"The Handmaiden, of course," Atris calmly answered, "She reported back to me with every planet you visited, informing me of your actions and expositions, as I had ordered her to do so."

Kai smiled sadly and shook his head, finding himself mostly amused by learning of Brianna's actions than anything else. He did not let himself feel any sense of being betrayed though as there frankly had been no loyalty between Brianna and himself for the longest time. Atris' unforgiving judgments of his actions and character had determined much of what Brianna had seen within him, and it was not until she witnessed his actions and choices for herself that she eventually came to question her Mistress' words. What trust he now shared with the Echani was something that had taken time to develop, as was with any relationship. It had grown to the point where she had placed her fate completely within his hands, as her leader, her teacher, and her friend. He would not question her loyalty as he knew she would not question his. It was only the motives of the woman standing before him that he felt the need to question.

"Why are you here, Atris," Kai asked flatly. "What is it that you want from me?"

Much like the Exile had when he had entered the room, Atris walked up to the window and stared outward at the sky, watching as the clouds drifted slowly with the coming of a storm. Kai watched her carefully with his eyes as she stood there gazing with a sadden expression, not turning to meet his own gaze.

"I came here seeking answers," the Historian responded as her eyes drifted downwards to look upon the movement of those outside. "And though I feel as though I already know the answers that I seek, I needed for you to tell me to remove any possibilities. I predicted that you would be in need of recuperation after returning from Malachor, and this was the closest planet to that forsaken place that you had visited during your travels within Republic space."

"And thus being the likeliest place for us to seek aid," Kai finished for her, turning his gaze back to face forward.

Atris lightly placed a hand against the glass, feeling the warmth of Onderon's star resonating within its surface. "I came because I needed to know what transpired there. And I needed to know from you."

Lugo sighed heavily as he continued to look forward at the bare walls of the room. It had surprised him somewhat how little relief the events at Malachor V had brought him, making him feel as though he had accomplished nothing in returning to that planet, even though he knew that such was far from the truth. Kreia's threat had been very real, and she would have gone through with what she had planned to do if he had not stopped her. And yet, the Exile had felt no sense of victory in the end, no sense of closure, with his teacher's insight of the future shadowing every thought he has had since then. For him, Malachor V had not been the end of his struggles, but simply the intermission of a far greater conflict that was soon to play out. Yet perhaps it had brought more closure for others than it had for him.

"The Mass Shadow Generator was reactivated," Kai finally answered. "Malachor V and the academy within its core were unable to withstand its power a second time. All that remains of that wasteland now is an asteroid field of rocks and forgotten dead."

Atris removed her hand from the glass then, letting her arm fall slowly to her side. "I see. And what of the Sith Lords?"

"Dead, along with their assassins and their teachings."

"Including Darth Traya?" Atris added as she finally turned to look upon the Exile.

Kai looked over his shoulder to return her stare, both their expressions hiding whatever emotions they might have been feeling as they looked closely upon each other.

That name did not sit well with Lugo. Even in the end, he had not thought of his teacher as a Sith Lord, anymore than she had thought of him as a Jedi. There had been no desire between them to kill one another. And yet principals had set them at each other's throats, one wanting to kill the Force and all those whose lives were bound to it, one wanting to save life as he had always tried to.

Even in the end, when she had removed all masks and revealed herself as being the one who brought the teachings of Malachor to bear against the galaxy, whom had sought the destruction of the Jedi Order with a bloody passion built upon by her beliefs, whom sought the death of an existence where one's fate was bound to the will of an apathetic power, Kai could not call his teacher by any other name.

"Kreia is no more," Lugo answered flatly.

Atris appeared to take no satisfaction out of hearing this, which Kai silently appreciated. Rather, she seemed to become a bit more crestfallen by knowing such than anything else.

Kai eyed the woman curiously as he noticed the sudden weight that seemed to fall upon her with the news, as if she had expected differently or was personally bothered by it.

"Ten years, Kai," Atris said after several silent moment, calling the Exile by name for the first time in a long time. "For ten years, the Order has known nothing but war, fighting a losing battle as our numbers dwindled with every death and conversion."

Suddenly placing her hands on the window sill, Atris let her head fall forward as if the weight of her emotions was becoming too much to withstand any more. "I watched as the Order slowly fell apart. Its strongest and bravest falling at the hands of Revan and his army of followers. The Masters would spend days meditating, searching within the Force for a way to save the galaxy from the wrath of their own fallen students. And yet for all our teachings, our strength, we were powerless to stop them."

Kai continued to lean back against the wall as he looked upon the former Master, listening to her words and feeling the anguish that accompanied them, all the while remaining passive in his expression.

A sad smile formed on Atris' lips. "And as if to mock everything that the Order stood for, in the end it was not the will of the Jedi that saved the galaxy, but the will of a turned Sith Lord. Revan had succeeded where the knowledge and power of the Jedi Council could not, ending the Sith Campaign to conquer within the span of a few months, in what had been a war that had lasted five years. Where we had failed to defend the galaxy as was our solemn duty, a man that had no loyalties to any but himself succeeded."

It was then that Atris raised her head and sharply turned it to look upon the Exile, and it was then that Kai finally noticed the tears within her eyes. The sight of such took the man a bit by surprise, as it had not been since they were children training together that he had seen Atris crying. Yet these tears spoke not of grief, but of frustration. A frustration that Lugo was certain had spent years building within the woman.

"And then there is you," Atris continued, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "Ever since Revan disappeared and these Sith assassins started destroying what was left of a crippled Republic and Jedi Order, I have spent five long years trying to find the means to set the galaxy right, training my Handmaidens to have the capabilities needed to fight this invisible threat. I believed it was the Order's chance to show the strength in our ways, our beliefs. But as if nothing had changed, our numbers continued to dwindle, and the Republic continued to crumble despite our best efforts. We, the last surviving Masters of the Order, turned and ran to the corners of the galaxy, hiding from the threat we could not even discern."

Anger suddenly flashed within the Historian's dry red eyes as she continued staring upon the Exile, who gave no response to the sudden rise in emotion.

"And then you," Atris' voice spoke now with the strain of her grief. "You whom, like Revan, turned your back on us and our ways, whom only returned to the Republic as part of my plan to bring the Sith into the light for my Handmaidens to strike down. And yet for all my planning, my struggle and perseverance through five more years of nothing but failure, it is you who set things right! My soldiers, whom I had molded relentlessly, fell at the hands of their weakest sister, whom you had trained within the span of mere weeks! You, whom caused the wound that brought about these assassins that hunted us like game! In a matter of months, you completely wiped them out and brought the salvation to the galaxy that I could not!"

The tears in her eyes could not be held back any longer, nor the frustration within her heart, and both came pouring outward without reserve. Kai pushed himself away from the wall and turned to stand directly facing the woman, his eyes and expression displaying a sad sympathy as he understood Atris' emotions better than she could imagine. That sense of inability to achieve what one devotes themselves to, the inability to save those one seeks to help. And worst of all, to watch die those that had placed their lives and their hopes within one's hands. It was a torment that one brings upon themselves, making it all that much more potent.

The Exile took a step towards the Historian, whom now was lost in her grief.

"How were you able to do it!" Atris screamed out between her tears. "Tell me!"

As Kai took another step forward, placing himself right in front of the grief-stricken woman, Atris' hand flew out to meet his face, whipping by it with a loud snap that echoed against the bare walls of the empty room. Lugo paid no heed to the sudden sting on his cheek, looking upon white-maned woman with the same compassionate eyes she remembered seeing when the Council had exiled him.

"Damn you! Tell me!" Atris continued to wail. "Tell me why I failed!"

As her hand came up to strike at the Exile once again, the grief-stricken woman suddenly found herself within his embrace before she could follow through, his right arm around her abdomen, pulling her smaller frame into his.

The warmth of his form enveloped the former Master, the empathy and strength of will of his embrace soothing her trembling form as she fought to regain control of herself. Unable to find the will to push herself away from him, Atris came to wrap her arms around the man and buried her face within his shoulder, her unrelenting tears soaking the fabric of his robe and tunic.

Kai stood there silently, his arm not relinquishing its hold on Atris even as she began to calm herself down to the point where she was no longer shivering. He had no answer to give her, or at least none that he knew she would accept. All he found he was capable of right then was to lend some of his strength to her in hopes to help alleviate her grief of all she had lost and all she had been unable to do.

It was all he could offer her.

And yet as she continued to choke upon her own tears, the Historian repeatedly whispered the same words over and over.

"Tell me…"

For almost a minute they stood there within each other's arms, Kai silently providing for her with the only form of comfort he could. Always the troubles that filled her life had found their way to consume her every waking moment, with none to aid her in her struggles. It made the Exile smile slightly as he imagined what Kreia would have said if she had seen Atris and him together as they were now. Despite the usual warnings his teachers gave him in response to almost every female relationship he had, warnings that had truly been unnecessary in most cases and a bit uncomfortable in their forwardness, Kai would have also expected to hear her lessons on the strength of solitude, of not relying on others to solve or even support him through his struggles and to not give such things either.

For all his former teacher had taught him of the weaknesses of such bonds, for all the pain he had felt in having them severed, Kai Lugo felt no regret or hesitance in comforting his childhood friend.

Slowly they came apart at arm's length, Atris' averted eyes now filled with a heavy exhaustion as if she had not slept for days. It had been so long since last she had allowed her grief to take hold of her in such a way. And though she felt a sense of relief in having expressed her agony so, her pride in her self-image condemned her for it. And also the Jedi Code, for what faith she still had in it, stated clearly of that Jedi are to be detached from such things as emotions. Even so, for all her belief, for all her years of study and molding herself, she still knew hatred. She still knew frustration. And she still cried.

A soft glove found its way upon her shoulder, and the young woman brought her eyes back upon its owner, whom smiled back at her warmly. Kai, despite all that had happened between them, despite all the hateful feelings and lack of forgiveness she had focused upon him, still smiled at her as he had so many years ago.

Even when speaking to the darkened and sorrowful woman in front of him, Kai words came out as light and friendly.

"Would you like to go on a small trip with me?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Onderon? What the hell's he got to go to Onderon for?" Atton exclaimed as he peaked out at Bao-Dur from under the synthesizer. The thing had not worked properly since they had first boarded the Ebon Hawk and this was the first time anyone of them had a chance to work on it since then. Without it, the food supplies the crew brought onboard, the ever despised Republic Emergency Rations, were the crews only source of nutrition, much to the pilot's disdain. Getting the damned machine to work and his stomach to stop moaning was his top priority right now.

Uncertain as to exactly what the General would tell his companions if they were to ask him of his intent, the Iridonian answered with a shrug. "I'm not sure. He probably has his reasons though."

"Yeah, right," the less than convinced man mumbled as he leaned back down and continued working on the mechanism above him. "Probably just wants to get away with that Miralukan sweetheart of his and leave this little mess for the rest of us to clean up."

"Yeah, probably," Bao-Dur responded sarcastically as he eyed over the diagnostics report Atton had within a datapad on the center station. He noted that several of the malfunctions listed were quite severe in nature, making him nothing less than amazed that the ship had made it as far as it had. The beating Malachor V had given her should have left her a dead fish in the water. "This tanker must have nine lives."

"After what she's gone through, I would say she only has three left." Atton responded as he set down one tool to pick up another. "So who's he going to be taking with him, anyways?"

"Don't know. Likely not anyone who can help in repairing the ship."

"So that leaves who? His two little fan girls? I can just imagine the ear aches." Atton smirked to himself as he pictured the pair of femme fatales taking their disagreements to a more physical level.

"Hey Bao-Dur. From one guy to another, who do you find the most attractive of our crewmates?"

A small smile formed on Bao-Dur's lips as he turned around and walked up to Atton, whose upper torso was hidden underneath the synthesizer console, his legs sticking out with one knee bent. The sound of rattling coming from the mechanism echoed through the main hall as Atton focused on his work.

"Well, to be perfectly honest with you, fly boy," the Iridonian responded in his usual whisper of a voice. "It isn't our female counterparts that have caught my attention…"

"Huh? What the-!" As he felt the technician's boot rub up against the inside of his left calve, Atton violently tried to lift himself up, smacking his head hard into the metal panel above. "Argh!"

Laughter erupted from Bao-Dur's throat as he jumped back, barely avoiding the pilot's legs as they swung about while the man grasped at his now very soar skull. "Just kidding, Atton."

As Atton regained control, he eyed the smiling Bao-Dur from between his fingers, having half a mind to crawl out from under the console and knock the bolts out of the tech freak until his horns were coming out the other end, if he wasn't so sure that such a fight would not go within his favor. "Damn it, you nerf herder! Don't freak me out like that!"

The Iridonian simply shrugged his shoulders in apology, the amused smile not leaving his face. "Honestly, Atton, Zabraks do not commonly find the fairer genders of other species all that appealing. All that hair you humans have is as attractive to me as probably a Rodian's lips are attractive to you."

That thought caused a shiver of repulsion to visibly travel through the pilot as he went back to working on the device above him. "So that means what? You prefer a woman that has nicely stacked spikes and luscious face tattoos?"

When the Iridonian did not respond to the taunt, the pilot wondered if his remarks had been more on the ball than he had intended. "Well… to each his own, I guess."

"Since you brought it up, which one have you been eyeing?"

"Hmph, like anyone of them would let me get in two feet of them…" the pilot sarcastically mumbled to himself as he again placed down one tool to pick up another. "The Handmaiden, Bri-something, whatever her name is now, looks at me like she's trying to figure out the best way to hurt me. Not that I mind it rough, but I'd bet what she's thinking of goes way beyond playful aggression."

"You would know, I'm sure, after having walked by the cargo hold so many times while she was sparring with the General," Bao-Dur responded, a suggestive tone within his voice.

By how Atton seemingly paused his actions for a moment and then continued once again, it was apparent that he had not missed hearing the implications behind his fellow crewmate's words.

As Bao-Dur continued scanning over the list, finding that there were more issues that needed attention than he had anticipated, he came to sincerely doubt that the ship would be repaired in anything less than three days, despite the General's faith in him. "I always thought that Mira was the one that caught your eye."

The pilot sniffed in detestment for the idea. "I would have even less of a chance with her than I would with the Echani. I'm not worth enough credits for her to even bat an eyelash in my direction."

The Iridonian cast a humored smiled. "Who is?"

"Well, right up until Goto got his circuits fried, our lady's man of a leader had her attention quite discreetly."

That statement caused the technician to look up from the holopad, casting the human a crooked look. "Lady's man?"

Placing down the tool in hand, Atton closed the panel above him and pulled himself out from underneath the synthesizer console. "He's got one who likes to wrestle with him in her undergarments, one who wanted to call him master, and one who wants to tie him up. What is it about him that they all find so damn irresistible? Is it the long hair? The way he seems to always have that annoying far off look like he's taken too many knocks to the head?"

"Maybe it's just that he showers enough."

The pair of men both swung their heads around to place the voice, finding the red-mane huntress walking into the room from the cockpit with a smug smile upon his lips. "More likely it's simply that he does not make a habit of annoying every other person on this ship."

Atton's eyes became aggressively sharp as he stared daggers at the sly woman. "Shouldn't you be dancing for a Hutt on the end of a chain right about now?"

"You always say the sweetest things too," Mira playfully replied, then turning her attention upon the technician. "So what else do you got for me?"

"We need to resupply with what we can get from our generous hosts," Bao-Dur responded, "Mandalore is willing to provide what we need for repairs, but everything else we will apparently have to pay for. Think you can go talk to that merchant of his and convince him to be a little more generous?"

"A little dash of Mind Trick, a few jabs with a bothan stunner," Mira shrugged her shoulders as if such was a trivial thing. "Shouldn't be a problem."

Reaching into one of the pockets on his trousers, Bao-Dur produced from it a credit stick he then handed off to the woman. "If he decides to go Hutt on you, we've got about fourteen-hundred creds to spend. Buy whatever food and mechanical supplies you can."

"Hey! You know I've got this thing working now, right?" Atton suddenly interject as he pointed over to the synthesizer.

Both Bao-Dur and Mira casted each other doubtful glances before both turned back to the pilot.

"Have you tried it yet?" Mira asked with a less than convinced expression.

"See for your self, Miss Optimistic," Atton shot back as he turned to face to console. Quickly he entered a command for the machine, and with a flare of being childishly dramatic, pressed the execute button.

All eyes turned upon the emission slab sitting next to the console, waiting to see if the pilot's attempts had been successful. A low rumble could be heard building in the back of the machine as it started to awaken.

"So far, so good," Atton commented with a snide smile towards Mira, who paid the look no heed.

Without warning, the low rumble abruptly stopped, and the machine fell silent.

"What the-!?" Atton walked up and place his hands on either sides of the console. "Come on, damnit! Work!"

In a pit of anger, the pilot pounded his hand hard against the top of the synthesizer. The machine suddenly sprung back to life, but instead of a low rumble, it started to give off the strangest of sounds like rubber and metal rubbing hard against each other.

It was at this point that Bao-Dur and Mira casted each other concerned looks, like the Force was suddenly telling them to take a few huge steps backwards. Rather than question why they felt as they did, the pair complied with their instincts.

Outside the Ebon Hawk, several Mandalorians had already begun repairs on the exterior, replacing the damaged metal platings that covered most of the ship. It was apparent from the beginning that they all had a lot of work ahead of them and, because of a certain Mandalorian's desire to please their leader, they had only three days to get it all done. Sadly they all knew it would be a while before any of them had a chance to sleep.

It was a bittersweet revenge for the others that Kelborn would have to work with the rest of them on the freighter now that Mandalore had returned. More bitter really, seeing as all Kelborn would be doing was overseeing the operation rather than having to get his hands dirty himself.

Standing silently away from the commotion of workers, Kelborn eyed the datapad within his hand that contained the Iridonian technician's assessment of what would need to be dealt with and what replacement parts would be required. From what he had read so far, he found himself more than a little surprised that the ship had not left them to drift in the some part of space.

"Quite a mess, isn't she?"

Looking up from the datapad, the Mandalorian turned to find it to be the raven-haired Jedi approaching him. It occurred to Kelborn for a moment that he had never actually learned this man's name, considering how much time he had spent on Dxun and with Mandalore himself, but he quickly disregarded that thought, having no real interest in learning the name of a man whom was not a Mandalorian.

Without responding, Kelborn turned back to looking over the datapad.

Though it was obvious to Kai that the man had no interest in conversing with him in the least, he still chose to walk up and stand beside Kelborn as he viewed the many Mandalorians running about the freighter, working objectively at high paced speeds.

"You sincerely think that you can repair all the damage to the outer plating within three days?"

"That's what I said, Jedi," Kelborn coldly responded without looking up.

Perhaps it was the way the Mandalorian said it, or the simple fact that being referenced by such did not do him any justice. Either way, the Exile felt the need for clarification.

"I'm not a Jedi," Lugo answered back flatly.

Though Kelborn had intended to dismiss the man entirely, what Kai had said had inadvertently touched upon the Mandalorian's interest. Enough so that he was willing to finally look upon the robed individual. "You use those Force tricks, don't you?"

"Yes, but so do many who would take insult in being called a Jedi," Kai calmly responded.

Kelborn sniffed in defiance. "Jedi, Sith, I don't see the difference."

A small chuckled came from Kai, finding Kelborn's response to be one he had received from others more times than he cared to count. The sheer idiocy of such a statement is what humored the Exile more than anything else. It was basically the same as saying that there was no difference between a Republic soldier and a Mandalorian, though Kai refrained from speaking such a comparison while surrounded by the armored warriors.

"Well, I can tell you this much for certain, Mandalorian," Kai spoke with a light-hearted tone. "If I were a Jedi, I would have admitted to it arrogantly as if it should be obvious. And if I were a Sith, I would have killed you for suggesting me being a Jedi."

That comment caused Kelborn to pause his overviewing of the datapad once again, this time slowly turning to look upon the man standing next to him once more. Kai responded to the glare with only a friendly smile, which the Mandalorian took passively. Rather than push the issue any farther, the armored warrior turned to matters that more concerned him, specifically their prisoner for the last few days.

"So who is she?"

Kai thought a little before responding quickly to the question. It surprised him somewhat how hard he found it to be to find a way to describe who exactly Atris was in relation to him, or anyone else for that matter. No longer did she bare the title of Jedi and all that it encompassed, much like Lugo himself, though for significantly different reasons. Perhaps historian would have been an appropriate term to use in placing a title upon Atris, but Kai doubted that was what the Mandalorian was actually interested in.

"She… is an old acquaintance of mine, and came here searching for me. And you need not worry, Mandalorian. She is not a threat to you."

Oddly enough, Kelborn, whom had always been slow to trust those whom were not Mandalorians, found himself having faith in this man's words, this person that carried himself unlike the Jedi or Sith the Mandalorian veteran had seen in several campaigns he had taken part in. "Are you planning on taking her with you? That would be one less problem that I'd have to worry about."

"She has agreed to accompany me to Onderon at the moment, so that should provide you some relief for the few days."

An aggravated grumble rumbled outward from the Mandalorian as he looked back on the rather long list of needed repairs. "Very little… I've already had the preliminary checks done for the shuttle, so you and she can get the hell out of here."

"Appreciate it," Kai responded as he headed off towards the loading ramp of the Ebon Hawk. "I'll be heading out as soon as I get my other accompaniment."

The Exile disappeared beyond Kelborn's sight then as he made his way into the ship. He truly was a strange one, the Mandalorian quietly thought to himself. And yet, for some reason, Kelborn felt he could understand why Mandalore trusted this man. There was something about this individual, this lightsaber-wielding man who claimed to be neither Jedi nor Sith. Though Kelborn could not place a name upon it, he knew it was the same something that he sees within Canderous, the something that caused Kelborn to accept the honor-bound warrior's offer when he came to him nearly four years ago. It was leadership. It was strength. It was commitment, determination, loyalty, endurance. It was so many things wrapped into one person and impossible for the even the aged war veteran to describe in full. But whatever it was, this man had it.

"You've always had a habit of making strange allies, Ordo," Kelborn said out loud to none but himself, then walking off to the supply hangar to acquire the items that would be needed for the next three days.

Lugo did not get two steps into the Ebon Hawk before a rather repulsive odor found its way to him.

"What the hell…" Kai placed his hand over his face to block out the smell that seemed to become more potent with each second he had to endure it.

Hearing the sound of heavy laughter echoing through the ship, the Exile made his way into the main hull, where he found Bao-Dur and Mira holding their faces much the same way he was, and barely seeming able to remain standing as both nearly fell over in tears.

"What is going-" It was then that Kai noticed Atton also standing in the room, his back facing towards Lugo. The pilot oddly had his arms held out at his sides, as if he was afraid of touching himself.

"Atton," Kai called out, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"Space… off… Lugo," Atton responded in an agitated voice without turning around to face the man.

"Atton fixed the synthesizer, Kai," Mira explained, breaking out into laughter once again.

"Works like a charm now, General," Bao-Dur followed up. "Why don't you turn around and show the General just how well it works, Atton?"

Without a word, Atton turned to go down the hall to the port crew quarters, Kai unable to see what the Iridonian was talking about.

Before the pilot could disappear out of sight, the Exile raised his hand and drew a circle in the air with his point finger.

"Hey!" Atton screamed out as he found himself being swirled around beyond his control.

Now being able to see Atton's front side all so clearly, the Exile's eyes went wide with shock, and suddenly laughter bursted from his lungs so powerfully that he had to grab onto the siding of the hull to keep from falling over. Bao-Dur and Mira quickly started up once again as well.

"Real funny, Jedi!" Atton screamed out, his features seething with anger. Or, at least, Kai suspected that he was seething, but was not entirely sure as he was unable to make out the pilot's face behind the blobs of green colored slime covering it and most of his torso.

"So… the synthesizer…" Kai asked innocently after regaining some of his composure yet not losing his smug smile. "…not quite working yet?"

The Exile could not quite make out what Atton said in response, as the man spoke through his clamped teeth, but Lugo thought he was able to discern the word "lightsaber" and suspected Atton was suggesting doing something rather unpleasant with it…

With those last words of advice, Atton turned back around and stomped his way into the port chambers.

"Remember what I said about you not showering enough, Atton?" Mira called out with the usual hint of playfulness in her voice. "Can you do us all a favor now?"

The sound of the refresher door being slammed shut was the only response the sly woman received.

After one last laugh in the back of his throat while shaking his head, Kai turned to the technician. "How does our little ship look so far, Bao-Dur?"

"Three days, General," the Iridonian responded with a shrug of his shoulders and a helpless smile.

"That bad, huh…" Kai looked about the main hull as if he were assessing its condition. "Well… we don't always get what we hope for…"

"You sure do expect a lot, considering you're not even going to be here to help us out," the red-mane huntress pointed out, eyeing the Exile like a student eyes an abusive instructor, to which Kai responded only as such a teacher would, smiling snidely. "What exactly do you need to take a trip to Izziz for anyways?"

"I simply feel it prudent to make contact with Queen Talia to make sure Onderon's current situation is one that does not require additional aid." Kai responded calmly, then diverting his eyes downward for a moment. "I also feel it necessary to inform her of… more recent misfortunes among the Jedi."

Bao-Dur noted that, from the way the red-mane huntress gave a few small consenting nods, Mira apparently accepted the Exile's response without reservation. And she had no reason to think otherwise, honestly. Kai's words had not echoed of deception, and likely they had not bared any, despite them having lacked in mentioning every reason for needing to make his lone voyage.

Though the technician was not sure he agreed with Lugo's decision to keep his…alterations a secret, he felt he understood the reason behind the General's desires for such, nonetheless. When he himself had first received his own prosthetics, he found others came to address him differently than they once had, speaking to him in voices that subtly resonated with pity, as if being part machine, something many accused him of even before it was true, somehow made him less than what he once was.

Yet while that may have played some part in the General's choice, the Iridonian suspected Kai's desire to hide his anatomical counterparts was more related to the nature of why he had acquired them. While war veterans often bragged about their battle scars, such pride in their wounds was due in part to the victory achieved by such mementos. It was a childish pleasure that even Bao-Dur had partaken of a few times himself.

But Kai never talked about his war scars. He never even hinted at their existence. How a man who had lost everything he ever valued, and so many of those he once held dear, could go on in life as if such had not torn his soul asunder, the Iridonian could not fathom to understand, nor did he want to.

"You're taking her with you, aren't you?"

A judgmental voice echoed outward within the main hull, stemming from behind where the Exile stood. Bao-Dur and Mira were quick to look over in the Handmaiden's direction as she rather pointedly stared daggers into the back of Kai's head, yet the raven-haired man was did not follow suit. Rather, Kai's gaze only fell downward, indicating both the truth behind Brianna's words and his understanding of why such angered the Echani.

Mira's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Taking who? Visas?"

Letting out a heavy breath, Kai then slowly turned around to meet the young warrior's gaze, finding that Brianna's eyes stated clearly the web of feelings the clairvoyant man sensed within her.

Not being blind to the sudden tenseness that had found its way into the room, Bao-Dur called over to the huntress. "How about we go get those supplies now Mira?"

Looking over to the Iridonian and then back upon the pair that stared at each other with very deep eyes, Mira at least figured that whatever it was that had caused this sudden flare of anger within the Handmaiden was something between her and the Exile.

"Mira?" Bao-Dur called out again.

"Yeah…right behind you, Bao-Dur," the red-mane huntress finally answered, eyeing the silent pair for a moment more before she turned to follow the technician out the ship, leaving the last occupants of the room to their own at last.

Anger. Confusion. Both waged a war within the Handmaiden's light blue eyes as Kai gazed upon them, neither emotion completely giving way to the other.

And yet the Exile's expression was much as it always was. Ever since the Echani warrior had first confronted the former Jedi within the chambers of the Telos Academy, she had seen the underlying shadow within his eyes. It was a strange calmness that she had yet to see within another as clearly as she saw it with the man before him. It reflected within every inch of his being. She saw it within every motion he made. She heard it within every word that he spoke. She had felt it every time their bodies met while they had sparred.

And yet for her to see such calm before her as her emotions swayed about within her, like a ship caught within the waves of a storm, only seemed to make the anger grow stronger, which he undoubtedly felt. Yet Kai's expression did not change, and neither did hers.

"How, Kai?" Brianna muttered, seeming to have trouble finding the words to vent her anger. "How can you trust… after she… everything she's said and done…how could you possibly trust her?"

"I'm not so sure I can," Kai calmly responded in all honesty. "She still bares much grief within herself, of that I am certain, though whether she will choose to focus that grief upon me again… I don't know…"

The former Jedi recalled Atris as always having had the utmost trouble in dealing with her most extreme emotions. Always she had chosen to focus her energy upon objectives, whether it had been her training or her studies, anything to numb the sadness or anger or anything else she felt.

As Kai remembered, Atris' masters often commended her for her self-control, saying such things as "her ability to be so objective made her a standard for the other students". Never did they try to truly console her about her feelings, to help her understand and confront them, only did they remind her of that damned code.

There is no emotion… when Kai had heard that single line as a young hopeful just entering the Order, that was when he knew that he could never truly be a Jedi. Yet Atris had believed in it with all her heart at one point. Seeing her for what she had become, Kai had found his distaste for the Jedi Code only becoming stronger.

Even now, the Exile had felt the instability within the historian, and though he had managed to help calm it by supporting her as he had, he knew that it was still there, and that it would take hold of her again and again until she either gave into it once more, or managed to pull through it. And there was little doubt within the Exile's mind that if he abandoned her now as he had so long ago, that she would succumb to the former.

"You told me… that I do not owe anything to her. That I was free of any sense of guilt or shame for my decisions and my betrayals," Brianna continued, gaining more direction with her words and anger. "If you truly believed this, Kai, then you would also believe the same of your own actions and choices. No matter what consequence your actions may have brought upon her, you are not responsible for her failings. You owe her nothing…!"

To this, Lugo found no words to quickly respond with. Yet it was not the anger in Brianna's words nor the truth behind them that made the Exile hesitant, but rather the fact that, for a moment, Kai found himself believing he was talking to someone other than the person he was facing now. This was an argument that he was certain he had shared with another not too long ago, with those same words having been said then as well.

As Kai recalled, that argument had ended in a stalemate, with neither him nor his former teacher giving sway. Neither had managed to convince the other of the validity of their convictions, and, in the end, no common ground had been reached between them on the matter.

But now… now at least Kai found himself a little more thoughtful in the answer he would give.

"I do not know what her path holds for her, Brianna, or even if there is one left for her to walk. And perhaps I do not owe it to her to help her now… but it has never been a question of indebtment or obligation for me. If I can help her find some sense of peace within herself, I will," Lugo answered, simply and fully, as if such was reason enough to overlook all reservations.

The certainty that had filled the Handmaiden's eyes and her heart with a fire fueled by righteous anger slowly dissipated upon hearing the former Jedi's response, for it seemed to define the man standing before her in his entirety.

Every kind act that he had committed, every choice that he had made, despite what it cost him, had stemmed from one tiny truth. He was needed.

It had not been obligation or repayment, or in some cases even morality, that made him make the choice that he had. It had been something so simple in comparison.

The orphans on Coruscant had needed him. The Republic had needed him. Atton, Bao-Dur, Mira, Visas, and even herself: they had all needed him, even if they had not realized it until the end. And even Kreia, whom in the end had betrayed them all, had needed him.

And now Atris…

Softly closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Brianna smiled sadly to herself, knowing that she would not win this disagreement, no matter how much she wanted her former Mistress to disappear from her life, as well as the Exile's. "You cannot deny those who need you… can you Kai?"

Diverting his gaze for a moment, the former Jedi thought upon the Echani's words, and his actions throughout his life, and when he turned back once again to look upon Brianna, a smile similar to her own had formed upon his lips as he answered with a small shake of his head. "I've never tried."

That brought about another one of those rare small laughs from the Echani warrior, exposing a side of her that the Exile enjoyed seeing.

And though he may not have said it, Kai appreciated her concerns more than she knew, and more than he could tell her.

Not since he first left the Jedi Order to go fight in the Mandalorian Wars had there been anyone he could have said was important to him, or for whom he was important. And what was truly the sad irony of it all was that the last person he could remember that had cared for him, truly cared for him, was now the one whom had hated him more than she had ever hated any other.

And though his teacher had insisted that Atris' hatred for him had been her failure, not his, the weight of it had continued to linger upon him for whatever part he may have played in it.

He had to give her something, perhaps just a chance, perhaps something more, if only to relieve himself of this sense of guilt.

Yet Kai, knowing Brianna as well as he did, perhaps better than anyone else ever had, knew she would not accept this, even if she did understand it. Her former Mistress had told her many lies for so long, and it was not something she would very soon forget or forgive.

And she would not allow for her former leader to be in a position where she could strike him down; Kai suddenly realized that this was true, even if it meant that the Echani warrior had to come along with them to Onderon.

An idea came to the former Jedi then that he felt would alleviate the Handmaiden of her concern over his safety. Yet Kai found himself a little more than hesitant to follow through with it as it meant having to deal with a migraine that he had hoped to avoid until he had returned from Onderon. But if it would put Brianna at ease without her having to accompany them…

Looking over to the stern passage, Lugo reluctantly called out.

"HK…"

Quickly appearing from the repair bay, the rusty red assassination droid stood at the ready, a heavily modified blaster rifle resting at ease in its right hand.

Like clockwork, the same question passed from the machine's vocabulator as it had countless times since the Exile had first restored its functionality, something he was more times than not regretful in having done.

"Query: Is there someone you need killed, master?"

Kai could only imagine how much it must have made the droid's behavior core glow when he responded differently than usual.

"Perhaps…"

As to avoid the vessel getting in the way of the commotion of Mandalorians working on the Ebon Hawk in the back of the base, Kelborn had Mandalore's shuttle transferred to the frontal grounds, stationing it on standby at the currently unused training area.

Standing anonymously next to the ship, Atris leaned back against the nearby wall, her hand loosely placed behind her as she gazed upward towards the blue sky with a passive, if a bit disheartened look upon her face.

She did not understand why she had agreed to accompany the Exile on his trip to Onderon, or, for that matter, why he had asked her to accompany him in the first place. Perhaps his ability to bend the will of others to his own had taken root within her as it had within his companion, bending her desires and actions to mirror his own. Or perhaps he had simply wanted her to accompany him, and perhaps she shared in that desire.

The desire to follow him…

Atris still did not understand the nature of Kai's ability, and she imagined that the Exile's understanding of it was not much greater. It had been something strange, unfamiliar, and, because of this, it was also frightening. For so long, the Masters of the Order had tried to understand how it was that Lugo was capable of bonding with others as he did, forcing them unknowingly to mirror him in thought and action. And for so long, they fooled themselves into believing that it had something to do with the man's unique connection to the Force, that it was something born in the realm of their understanding.

"How arrogant…"Atris thought to herself as she continued to stare at the sky.

It nearly made the historian laugh, thinking how easily she and the other Masters had convinced themselves that they truly grasped what the man was. So strong had been their cowardice of what they could not understand that when Kai had returned to them, with every inch of his being completely barren of the Force, dead in every way a Jedi sees someone as dead, and yet still walking, still breathing, and still bonding, they turned him away.

How much she had wanted to kill him then, Atris realized with a heavy sigh. And it was not only because he had managed to make the choice she had desired to, but also because he had shown her and the council something that was beyond them: a void in the Force that bared life within it.

Diverting her eyes for a moment to look upon a passing Mandalorian, Atris thought upon just how much insight the Force truly gave a person. While any being could see that which is of flesh and blood with their own two naked eyes, what perspective the historian had within the Force provided so much more than that. She saw the vibrations of life, the flow of energy, the ripples of heat, sound and motion, the echo of thoughts and passions.

For those like her who devoted their lives to the formation and strengthening of their bond to the Force, such sight was more real to them than anything their eyes alone could perceive. And that is why she had hated Kai Lugo so strongly, for within the Exile did Atris see nothing of herself. Not her beliefs. Not her devotion. And not her determination.

And he was the stronger…

Spotting movement out of the corner of her eye, the historian turned her gaze to find the Exile appearing from the pathway to the southern grounds of the camp. Behind him followed a rusty red droid, similar to the protocol droids Atris recalled seeing several times in her explorations before taking refuge within the Telos Academy. Yet this one rather openly carried a blaster rifle within its hands, its head unit turning about rapidly as to let its photoreceptors take in all that was about it.

Atris finally pushed herself away from the wall as Kai approached her without hesitance in his step.

Kai passively gazed upon the woman's blue eyes that focused back at him. "Are your ready to depart?"

"You intend to bring that machine with us," Atris asked as if not hearing the initial question. "Why?"

"Interjection: Machine…? Machine!?" The droid's metallic voice echoed as if insulted by the concept of being referenced by such a simple term. HK's photoreceptors sharply turned upon its master then, its voice taking on a very sinister tone as if barely being able to control its burning rage. "Oh please, Master! My assassination protocols are just begging to-"

"-No," Kai interrupted with a finality that was unusual for his voice. "Just… get in the shuttle and wait for take off."

Perhaps it was because its meatbag of a master had ordered the droid with such an uncommon tone, or perhaps it was because it had realized that, after countless attempts of trying, it was not going to be able to change its master's decision. Whatever the reason, for the first time since Kai had reassembled it, HK complied with the Exile's command without a word of retaliation, quietly walking past he white-mane meatbag and climbing into the passenger compartment of the shuttle.

Atris paid the droid no heed as it walked passed her, her eyes fully placing their attention upon Kai as he stood before her. Yet her expression hinted at nothing, neither anger nor sadness. Rather she simply looked at him, quietly and without hint of the question she had for him. "What exactly is the nature of the trip, Lugo? You never did tell me."

Kai hesitated before he answered. As he thought upon it, he realized that there really was no point hiding the reason, every reason, of why he needed to travel to Onderon. She would learn the truth of it soon enough, as would HK. And honestly, Kai found the thought of either of them learning of his… alterations unsettling. That could not be helped, he accepted, yet at this point it time it was probably best to wait until he was at least in the process of getting the repairs he needed before he informed them of it.

"I have a few errands that I need to complete in Izziz," Kai finally answered, his voice being sure and steady without reservation or hint of withholding.

But Atris knew him better than that, perhaps better than anyone else. As children having grown so close to each other within the academy, the historian had learned to see Kai ever clearly. And though she had convinced herself for the longest time that Kai was no longer the person she once knew, Atris could see now that he had not truly changed from what she remembered.

And just like when they were young, she could tell when he was hiding something from her. But as to the exact nature of what that was, she could only guess.

"Errands that require the assistance of an assassin droid," the young woman asked, her voice baring no sound of disgust or anger within it. She had simply asked, desiring an answer despite the possibilities.

"No," Kai responded without pause.

Yet the way he had said it, without the certainty that was naturally passive in his voice and gaze, made Atris all the more skeptical.

If his reasons for the machine had nothing to do with his need to travel to Izziz, then why…

As a possibility found its way into Atris' thoughts, the historian found herself unsure as to how she should react to it.

After all, what was she supposed to feel? Betrayed? By a man whose name she had spat on for the better part of ten years? Whom she had used as a tool for her own means to lure out the Sith? Whom she had attacked with a ferocity and bloodlust she had never known before?

He would be a fool not to take precautions against her, Atris realized, even if she truly had abandoned all her hatred for him, which she herself was not certain of.

Still…for Kai to take such action as to have a bodyguard accompanying him, to place another, even a droid, in jeopardy for the sake of his own safety…

No…that was something Atris knew Kai would never do. In a time long past when the former Jedi had once served as her personal Guardian, Atris had learned of his devotion to selflessness, and had witnessed the many scars born of it. It was a memory she had chosen to forget when Kai had chosen to leave the Order. For if she had held onto that memory, Atris could not have ever doubted him. She could not have ever hated him.

And now, after so long, she remembered once again, and knew that her former friend would not rely upon such a method to defend himself, even from her.

"Then what purpose does the droid serve in this expedition?"

"What? Besides ear-aches and migraines?" the Exile responded with his usual flare of humor.

Seeing predictably that his light heartedness once again failed to stir the woman from her icy demeanor, a heavy sigh of acceptance escaped his lungs as his expression came to match her own in all its seriousness.

Walking slowly towards the shuttle, the Exile paused for a moment as he came to stand next to Atris, whom watched his movements in silent contemplation. He was hesitant to look upon her, she realized, as if his reasons shamed him. Yet when he finally did answer her, she realized that it was not for his own sake that he was attempting to avoid responding.

"The droid is not accompanying me for anything sinister, Atris," Lugo replied as he continued towards the vessel, his voice as soft as an echo. "His presence is only for the sake of putting Brianna's fears at ease."

His answer, Atris knowing it to be the truth, only served to confuse the historian even further. He had spoken the name as if she should know it. "One of your companions?"

Kai did not turn to meet Atris' words, knowing that if he did, she would have seen the sharp change within his eyes her response had caused.

That name had meant absolutely nothing to her. She had never heard it before, never used it to address the one that it belonged to; the one that had served her unquestioningly for over ten years; that would have given her life at a word from the former Jedi Master's breath.

It was the thick red line that separated the insignificant from the essential, the high class from the low class, and the soldier from the general.

And the privileged youth living in Upper City from the dirty orphans sleeping within an abandoned warehouse.

If Atris could have seen the Exile through the Force at that moment, she would have seen how her words had troubled him. But as always since he had returned from the Mandalorian Wars, Kai appeared as nothing more than a hollow corpse before her eyes, void of anything that constituted for life. And within that void was nothing that she could see or understand.

"Yes," Kai finally responded after a long resounding silence in which he regained his center. "She is a companion of mine."

His words, however straightforward, hinted at a shadowed meaning that the white-maned woman did not understand.

Without another word being said between them, Lugo proceeded to climb aboard the shuttle and into the pilot cockpit without giving Atris the chance to respond.

The former Master stood where she was for several quiet moments, watching the Exile suspiciously as he proceeded to activate the vessel's systems. He seemed so distant to her then, more so than she could recall him ever being. Perhaps he simply had many concerns upon his mind, Atris could not be certain.

And yet, as the historian glanced upon her former friend as she climbed into the passenger compartment, she could have sworn that she had seen a flash of anger within his eyes. The same flash of anger she remembered seeing within him when she had told him not to take part in the Mandalorian Wars so long ago.

Deep within a forgotten section of the Dxun jungle laid the ruins of a once great fortress, some say the greatest of fortresses ever built within the Onderon System. Even after the forces of the Republic and the rogue Jedi had released their fury upon it, the Mandalorian Fortress still stood tall, with its walls and buildings reaching into the sky. And what the aggressors had left behind of the fortress now began to slowly crumble to the earth as the plants grew to overwhelm it and the jungle's raging storms wore down its once unbreachable barriers.

This place, this graveyard, like the many before and after it, echoed with the screams of the dead. Voices that screamed if for no other reason than to be heard. And yet only rarely were such voices ever truly listened to, as those that had been taught to hear such voices often chose to ignore them. For these screams, these echoes, carried too much pain within them for most to withstand, and those that tried and failed were consumed by darkness or death.

Silent and motionless, the cloaked figure of a man stood within the ruined courtyard of the fortress where once hundreds of thousands of Mandalorians had gathered to gaze upon the former Mandalore and to take in his strength as he spoke of honor and power and victory to the vast numbers. Yet the voices that the shadowed man was listening to screamed only of hatred.

"I hear you, dear siblings," the cloaked figure spoke in a whisper of a voice. "I hear your wishes and will bring them to bare. We shall make our brother suffer for his treachery to all of us soon enough. Of that I swear to you."

As the hooded man raised his head upward, his gaze fell upon the fruits of his labors for the better part of the last five years. Ordered in perfect formation, an army of inactive battle droids stood at the ready, their numbers filling the better part of the vast courtyard.

A sadistic smile formed on the man's lips as he looked upon the product of his countless months of scavenging through the remains of the war. It had been hard and gruesome work, restoring the legion of ancient battle machines back to their full functionality. But now, after so many years of patience, he would finally give their existence purpose once again.

"Father's gracious gift shall not go to rot."

Pulling back upon the sleeve of his robe, the cloaked man pressed down lightly upon one of the switches of his wrist controller, sending out a signal among the motionless machines.

And like clockwork, the army of battle droids sprung to life, the glow of power filling their photoreceptors as they became fully operational.

"With the very gift that our brother abandoned shall I eradicate every last vermin that inhabits this moon."

Bringing out his open hand before him, the cloaked figure held it upward as if he were grasping something within it, slowly closing his gloved fingers into a fist as he spoke.

"I shall bleed dry every inch of that which he holds dear. I shall make him watch as I rip apart all that he loves with my bare hands. I shall have him begging for forgiveness at our feet for what he did to us, my brothers, my sisters."

Looking back upon his army, a red glow filled the man's eyes as he envisioned every savory moment. "And when he returns from Onderon, he shall find his allies left to burn and rot, as he left us."

With another press of a button upon his wrist controller, the tireless army arose from their slumber…

Ready to march upon the Mandalorians once again…


End file.
